What Could Have Been: The Story of Paul and Jane
by idle hands 418
Summary: This is the story of its own name. The story of what might've been between Paul McCartney and Jane Asher had they not ended their relationship. Follow their struggle, pain, happiness, and triumph in the tale of What Could Have Been. NOT ATU (P.S. May include harsh language/themes) (P.P.S. Disclaimer: I don't know or own anyone in this story)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! I know that I haven't been updating my other stories as regularly as I should be, but this is just a story that came to my mind and I couldn't help but at least write a few chapters. I'd love it if you all could give me some input on whether or not I should continue, so if you life it or have some suggestions, review or shoot me a PM. I really hope that you enjoy because I really think we could go somewhere with this story. Well, I hope you had a happy winter season and I hope you have a wonderful new year!**

**x **

* * *

"Paul," Jane said quietly. "Do you think you'll be home soon?" He lit a cigarette and shrugged.

"Dunno," he murmured. "Probably not. Why?" She brushed a long piece of red hair behind her ear.

"Well, you made such a big deal about me not being home, but you're never here now." She scratched her nose. "Seems kind of unfair, really. We never have any time or anything."

"We're going to that party tonight, aren't we?" he said impatiently. "Or is that not up to your caliber? Sorry it can't be a movie premiere, but this is as best as it gets."

"You know what? Fine. I'll find something else to do. I'll see you later," she snapped angrily. She was too independent and mysterious, and that scared him. He watched her walk quickly upstairs and away from him and as he left the house, he wondered how it turned out to be this way.

She went out with her friend for a movie she had shot a few years earlier and came back home to Paul who was extremely irritated with her. He told her to get her costume on and said that he didn't want to hear another word from her. She was an hour late and he knew that people would start to notice that they weren't at the Beatles' own party.

"You changed cigarettes?" she asked as she ran a comb through her hair. He shook one out and lit it.

"Yeah," he sighed, leaning back in his chair and watching her get dressed. "Felt it was time for a change." The words seemed to have a double meaning. Jane hesitated before putting her dress on the rest of the way. She lifted up her hair and peered over her shoulder at him.

"Zip me up?" He did as he was asked and pressed his lips to her neck. "Not right now, Paul. You're the one who's pushing me out the door." He huffed and pushed her away.

"Fine, then. Let's go." He grabbed his keys and waited until she followed him to the car. As he drove the Rolls Royce dangerously fast through the quiet streets by their home, he glanced at her every so often. Her blue eyes steamed with hidden anger as she pulled on a strand of her shiny hair. She was dressed as a French maid and shivered because Paul liked to have the window's down.

"What the hell's eating you?" he asked. She glared at him as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm them. "Jane if you're going to be a bitch all night-,"

"Don't start this," she groaned. The car started to go faster as Paul's temper increased. "Paul, slow down."

"Be quiet," he growled, turning a corner precariously. Jane's hands held the bottom of the seat for dear life.

"Then pull over," she said shakily. The speed increased steadily. "Paul! Stop the car!"

"Close your bloody mouth or I'll do it for you!" They whizzed through a red light and Jane screamed as a car almost plowed into the side of theirs. "What the hell did I just say?"

"Stop the damn car!" she yelled. He matched the volume of her scream with his own sound of frustration and pulled into an empty side street. Before the car completely stopped, Jane was unlocking the door and hastily collecting her things.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"Anywhere but with you," she hissed as makeup ran down her face she slammed the door viciously. She attempted to run away, but Paul caught her quickly and put her back into the car. She tried to fight him, but her pushed her back into her seat, hit the lock, and closed the door.

When he got back to his side of the car, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. She turned her face away stubbornly, so he took her chin and made her look at him.

"The next time you want to pull a stunt like that, I'll make sure your fucking ears ring whenever you think of it," he shouted. She looked at him with hurt in her eyes.

"Paul!" she said, obviously scared. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Because the next time you do that, what if you run off to some bloke and he takes you from me?" he finally admitted. Her eyes softened and she leaned across the seat to kiss him.

"No one will," she said gently. He pulled her over to sit on his lap. She was cramped because he took up most of the room on the small driver's side, but she stayed nonetheless. "It's just…al the arguing and the fighting and the accusing and the blaming, Paul! I'm just so sick and tired of it!"

"I know, love," he said as he held her closer to him. She became distracted as he kissed her deeply.

"I just want…" she sighed before he met her lips again. "I want…" He ran his hand through her soft hair.

"What?" he murmured. She put her hands on his chest and kissed him again.

"I just want us to love each other," she whispered painfully. His hazel eyes met her sad blue ones and he pulled her back to him. They lost track of time and were kissing passionately when there was a knock on their window. Jane jumped as Paul rolled it down. A police officer looked at them suspiciously.

"There a problem, officer?" Paul said curiously. Jane blushed and fumbled with her dress so that it wasn't falling off of her shoulders.

"You kids gotta move, now," he commanded. "This is a dead end, but it ain't no place to be doing whatever it is you're doing." Jane tried to move back to her seat, but Paul kept his arm tight around her waist. The police officer was subtly looking over Jane's figure in her costume which showed a lot of leg.

"Soon as you keep your eyes off of me girl," he said, narrowing his eyes. The officer stepped back awkwardly as Jane slide back into her seat. The officer jerked his chin up authoritatively.

"Deal. Have a nice night." Paul hissed angrily and pulled away from the curb quickly. The tires screeched as he drove quickly to John's house. As they pulled up, Paul grabbed Jane's arm.

"What?"

"I don't want to see you talking to any men," he warned her. She looked at him and tried to pull away but his grip got tighter.

"Paul, let go!" she yelled.

"Shut up and do what I said." He let her go and went around to open the door for her. He grabbed her hand and they walk to the door silently. Cynthia opened the door dressed as a flapper girl.

"Hey, there!" she greeted. She gave them each a hug and a kiss. "Party's in the living room. You know where you're going." She looked at Jane's red arm. "Jane, would you help me with the drinks? I don't want to take John away from the party."

"Yeah," Jane agreed. She looked a Paul nervously and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you in a minute?" He squeezed her hand and went off to see his friends. Jane helped Cynthia fill some flutes full of champagne and they indulged in a few glasses themselves. They laughed about John and Paul's latest fight when Cynthia noticed Jane's bruised arm again.

"Wait happened here?" she asked. Jane looked down at it as if she hadn't expected it to look that bad.

"That's was fast," she said quietly, gently tracing the outline of the bruise. "I really hate it when we argue."

"That's two of us," Cynthia sighed. "Was it bad tonight?" Jane poured Paul a Scotch and Coke and shrugged.

"Not as bad as some of the others," she admitted. She took a sip of the drink, winced, and put it back down. "It was kind of mild, really. He's just a shit driver, too." The women giggled together and finally took the drinks into the living room.

"Oh, the princesses decided to join us!" John crowed. Cynthia rolled her eyes and passes out the beverages. Jane went to talk to Patti and Paul noticed a few men staring at her. He scowled but continued his conversation with John. Jane excused herself to use the restroom and the four men followed her, laughing drunkenly. It took him about a minute, but he got worried because he heard the laughing getting louder. Eventually, their laughs were all that he could hear over the conversation in the room. He heard Jane call out for him and he instantly jumped up and ran to find her.

When he ran into the hallway, they had Jane cornered and she was truly showing her youth. Her blue eyes were wide and scared as she cried for Paul. Without hesitation, he immediately let loose and punch the man holding her in the corner. The man grasped his jaw as Paul hit the two other men in the stomach and chin. They slumped down in pain and he pulled Jane close to him.

"I wasn't talking to them or anything," she said innocently. "I don't know why they followed me."

"Jane," he sighed. "You're a pretty bird, so blokes are always gonna follow you. You have got to be aware because next time I won't be there to save you." Her skin turned just a shade lighter than the average cadaver.

"Well, why not?" she panicked.

"You never know." She looked at the men stumbling out of the hallway and pulled her dress down a bit.

"Can we just go home?" she asked quietly. He held her tightly and rubbed her back.

"Yeah. Let's just say goodbye and we'll go home and go to bed, alright?" She nodded into his chest and kissed him. They said their goodbyes and the crowd found it slightly suspicious that they were leaving so soon after they had arrived. Jane kept her shaking hands in her lap as Paul drove home at the same breakneck speed as before.

Jane sat up reading a script and Paul was scrawling down a few lyrics as they sat in bed. She put down her papers and lay her head on his chest. He put his arms around her and sighed.

"What're we doing tomorrow?" she yawned.

"We'll meet with the director I wanted you to meet. He's invited us to play tennis at his house after brunch." She nodded and kissed him.

"Goodnight, Paul," she said quietly.

"Night, love."

The next morning, they left out to the director's large white house. Jane stared up in awe as she lifted her sunglasses.

"Jesus," she exhaled. "The director lives here?"

"Actually, he lives in a small room over the garage. The servants live here," he joked. She swatted his chest and let him help her out of the car.

"How can he work in a place like this?" she asked as they walked under a lattice trellis.

"Stocker doesn't work. He's a director."

"Stop it." They examined his large yard that was slightly occupied with well-to-do looking people. "Well, looks like everybody's here."

"Everybody who's anybody."

"What, no ice skating rink?" she said as they passed the croquet court and the swimming pool.

"No, it's in the cellar." She rolled her eyes as the director approached them.

"Well, well! Mr. McCartney, as I live and breath!" the man chuckled heartily.

"Larry, how do you do?" Paul asked as a blonde came to attach herself to Larry's arm.

"Fine, just fine!" he said. He offered his hand to Jane. "Larry Stocker, I'm glad you could make it. This is my wife, Tina."

"Hello, Tina," Paul smiled. Tina sparkled.

"Hi ,how are you?" she breathed. Larry interrupted her.

"Now, it's Janie, isn't it?" he asked.

"It's Jane," she said stonily. Paul nudged her.

"Can I get you a drink?"Tina asked.

"No. thank you," Jane smiled. Paul simply shook his head and looked off into the distance. Jane took his hand and he glanced down at her with a small grin. He took her by the waist and led her to the tennis courts.

"Paul, Jane, we'll talk more later!" Larry called as he went back to his croquet game. Paul raised his hand in acknowledgement and tossed Jane the ball. "I'm throwing Jerry a birthday party! Everyone's got to come as a Marx brother."

"Sounds like fun," Jane commented. "But I'll tell you one thing, I'm not coming as Groucho."

"Good, you can come as Harpo. That way you won't be able to talk," he chuckled.

"Ha ha ha," she laughed sarcastically. "I think you're an idiot." He burst into laughter as she served.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! It's my first update of the new year! Happy 2013 everyone! So here is yet another chapter in this prototype story that I've started. I'm formally apologizing for any past, present, or future typos that I make because I usually write at night when I'm a little livelier than a corpse. Anyway, tell me how you like the story and my other stories shall be updated within the next week or so.**

**Review and enjoy!**

* * *

When Jane moved in with Paul in 1966, the first thing she noticed about the house in St. John's Wood was its scarily overgrown garden. It was practically a jungle, inhabited only by Paul's huge prowess of a sheepdog. It gave her the creeps, and she almost immediately started hinting at him to do something about it.

"You know, one day Martha's going to get lost out there, and you won't know what to do," she sighed as she made him breakfast. It was one of the few times when she was not working and he enjoyed her cooking.

"She can fend for herself," he said, digging into the food set before him. "Could you feed the cats, love?"

"I didn't even notice you had any," she mumbled. "What're they supposed to eat?"

"There's some tuna in the cupboard, I think. Just give the three of them each half a can. They can drink some water." She frowned and put out three full cans for each and warm up three bowls of milk. She scowled at the scene set before her. It was too domestic and she felt like a droning housewife. She never thought from the day she met him that her life would be like this.

They met in May of 1963 at a pop concert at the Albert Hall. She had just turned seventeen and had been appearing on a popular TV show. A magazine asked her to go to the concert and give her comments as a teenager on all of the groups. She said that the only ones worth screaming over were the Beatles. At first, she liked George the most.

It was Paul, however, who recognized her and shouted after her, making the rest of the band swarm around her and chat her up. They all said "Will you marry me?" which was what they said to every girl at the time. They invited the rave London girl back to their hotel for a drink.

The others left Paul alone in the bedroom with Jane after a lot of winking. The two spent most of the evening talking about gravy and their favorite meals. He knew that she was the girl for him. He hadn't tried to grab her or make her.

"It appears you're a nice girl," he told her. She grinned.

"And appearances are everything."

They went out many times over the following weeks, sometimes just walking around the city together. No one recognized Paul yet, in the early months of 1963, but a lot of people knew Jane. They took a short holiday to Rome and Paul missed a connection back to Liverpool. Mrs. Asher told him to stay the night, but he didn't want to. Working class lads didn't stay with a girl's parents. However, in the end, he obliged. The night turned into day, day into weeks, and then into three years. He lived his whole London life at Jane's house until 1966 when he got his own house.

An evening with them was like an evening with any other young couple. Jane made the dinner. It was all vegetarian. They shared a bottle of white wine which she had opened for cooking and they were just finishing up.

The doorbell rang many times during dinner and Jane calmly left her plate each time to speak to the fans through the intercom. Paul would've long given up and ignored them as he usually did when they were getting too persistent. She spoke to them nicely and asked if they wouldn't mind waiting a moment—she and Paul were eating dinner. They kept ringing the bell, and he got frustrated.

"Paul, just go talk to them," Jane said, sipping her wine.

"We're having dinner. They can wait."

"Paul, they've been waiting all day. Just go."

"Jane, they'll be there after dinner tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow," he protested. "They're always there!" She patted her mouth with her napkin delicately and pointed to the door.

"Go, Paul. Now." He gave her a twisted smile, but went out and signed pictures for all the girls who had been waiting. He came back inside and Jane had her legs tucked up underneath her as she finished her wine.

"Want to go out tonight?" he asked, pouring her a bit more. Her blue eyes rolled upward as she considered the option.

"I guess," she said. She reached across the table and took a cigarette out of his coat pocket. "There's a new club that opened a few weeks ago. We can check it out, maybe?"

"Yeah," he agreed. He lit her cigarette and lit one for himself. "You have to leave in a few days."

"That's right." They were silent for a minute. "I'm going to go get dressed, then. We'll worry about the dishes later."

"Deal." It took them about fifteen minutes to get dressed and it too Jane another half an hour to fix her hair. Paul told he how beautiful she looked and he was rewarded with a bright smile. When they got to the club, they immediately started dancing and had more fun than they'd had in ages.

He made her laugh and swung her around during the really jazzy songs. By the end of the band's first set, her face was bright pink and she laughed uncontrollably. Every time he pulled her close to him, he would kiss her and look at her lovely smile. When slow songs came on, she shifted so she was closer to him and laid her head on his strong shoulder. They were truly a dream couple,

However, the dream didn't last long. When they got home, they'd gotten into an argument because Jane was busy packing to leave for her film. She argued that she was shooting a movie for the director that _he _wanted her to me. He randomly pointed out that she would be a terrible mother because she was always jetting off to some foreign place instead of spending time with him.

"Well, maybe I don't want to be a mother," she spat. "Especially to your kids."

"I guess the problem with _some _people is that they work too hard. They can't even see what they could be and what they could have because they're so focused on their job," he said. "And themselves."

"So what!" she yelled. "Should I just stop because _you _think I should? Why don't you stop playing music and come with me everywhere I go? That's what you think I should do, right?"

"Jane-,"

"So I'll just stop doing what I like to do, alright?"

"No, you're unhappy if you aren't doing anything," he said sarcastically. "If I stop you, you'll hate me."

"Maybe I already do!" she screamed. He stared at her disbelievingly and she couldn't even believe she'd said that to him. "Wait, Paul-,"

"No. I'm glad you said it because I hate you too," he growled, backing her into a corner. Her back hit the wall and she stared up at him with fear on her face. "I never loved you. You were just a good shag. Just like all the other birds. You think you're the only one?"

"What!" she shrieked. "You…what!" He chuckled meanly.

"You really do! You think you're the only one! You're just the lucky one. It could've been anyone, but for some reason I chose you." Her face fell and he instantly regretted telling her that. "Jane, I'm not serious-,"

"Get out!" she shouted. He took a step toward her but she threw a book at him. "Get out of here now!"

"Fine!" he snapped, grabbing his keys. "I hope you're gone by tomorrow morning, Jane," Her eyes widened as he stormed out of the house and slammed the door.

"I'll be gone by tonight!" she screamed at the closed door. She heard his car screech away and she sunk to the floor in tears. After about five minutes, she stood up, brushed herself off, and neatly finished packing her clothes. She called a taxi and flew to Italy a day earlier because she knew that if she saw Paul before she left, she couldn't do what she was about to do. She left a letter for Paul which he didn't read right away. He looked everywhere for her first before opening the envelope.

_Dear Paul,_ it read.

_Sometimes, it comes to a point in our lives when we have to think about what we are doing and where we are heading. When happiness fades, we need to look for new beginnings. When love dies, we need to step away and carve out the dead feelings._

_I know it is difficult to let this relationship go. We have been through so much together that it hurts just recalling a tiny fraction of the time we spent as a couple. But I also know it will only hurt more if we let this relationship drift. The same inevitable parting will confront us then making it even harder for us to recover and find that elusive happiness and peace of mind._

_We have had our fair share of love and happiness. Let those be the memories that will stay with us as we go our separate ways. Continuing on will only leave us with more bitter recollections that will overwhelm the happier times that we once shared. That's simply because true happiness will never be possible from now on when the magical feeling has long gone. Instead, what will set in is indifference, making us strangers, not lovers, in our own home._

_Perhaps you will find that I'm trying to justify my decision to move on. To alleviate my guilt of leaving this relationship. Maybe I am and for that I'm truly sorry. But I also strongly believe that a person as special as you deserves someone much better. Someone who can love and cherish you the way a lover should rather than depending on crumbs from a dying feeling which is better left buried._

_Therefore, this relationship is over. Harsh, it may seem, but I want both of us to be happy. If I can't feel it in my heart, neither can I give you what you rightly deserve. That being the case, let us go and seek our own rainbows, which I'm sure will appear when the time is right._

_Goodbye and take care._

_Sincerely, Jane_

Before he could even process what he was doing, he balled the letter up in his fist and ran to his car. He drove to the airport and got on the first flight to Italy. He hadn't packed any bags and had no idea where Jane would be, but he needed to see her somehow. He vaguely remembered her mentioning Milan so that's where he went. He walked around the city for hours, communication only with hand signals as to where a film set might be. One Italian who spoke iffy English told him where to go.

He raced to a closed off area and waved frantically to Larry Stocker. Larry told him that Jane had just left. He told him where the hotel was and Paul ran through the crowds to find her. Several young girls recognized him and gasped but he kept going. Finally, he found her hotel and went to the front desk.

"Hello, may I help you?" the receptionist asked with a British accent. She was quite pretty and remained pleasant as Paul tried to catch his breath. He didn't notice how nice she looked. He didn't care that her black hair was shiny and thick and long. It didn't matter to him that her liquid brown eyes looked at him with concern and slight curiosity. All he cared about was Jane.

"Jane Asher. Is she staying here?" he panted. The woman bit her lip.

"I'm not sure. What's she look like?" she asked.

"She about yea high," he said, holding his hand slightly below his eyes. "Red hair, blue eyes?" the woman's eyes flickered in recognition.

"The actress!" the woman chirped.

"That's right," Paul nodded. The woman smiled and looked in the booking book.

"Room four-sixty. She just arrived." He thanked her and ran to the stairs. He ran all the way to the fourth floor and pounded on her door. There was no answer. He ran to the emergency exit balcony and leaned over it. He saw an unmistakable flash of red hair and a light blue dress. His heart skipped a beat and he yelled off of the balcony.

"Jane!" he cried out. Her head whipped around trying to locate where her name was coming from. "Jane, darling!" She looked up and he saw the look of utter confusion on her face.

"Paul?" He couldn't hear her but he saw her mouth form the word. He motioned for her to wait and he raced back down the stairs, past the pretty receptionist, and into the street.

Jane had her arms crossed and she looked around for Paul. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her. She was shocked and tried very hard not to relax into his arms, but his desperate hold on her and his thankful sigh made her tilt her head up and kiss him.

"Let's go back upstairs," she said to him. He took her hand and held it as though she would leave him forever f he let go. They went back to her room and he held her tightly. "Why are you here?"

"I couldn't…" he started. He couldn't finish his thought. "I just can't let you…"

"What?" He kissed her deeply and closed his eyes.

"I couldn't let you walk away from me like that," he breathed.

"Oh, Paul," she said, laying her head on his chest. He took her chin and leaned down to kiss her. She led him to the bedroom where they spent the rest of the day together. Jane had to work the next day, but that night they went shopping and had dinner together. Paul's impromptu trip to save their relationship turned into a two week holiday until the set moved back to London.

It was only at the end of shooting the first half of the movie that Jane discovered she was pregnant.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okie doke, here we are with chapter 3. Okay I'm really bad at keeping promises but I swear my other stories will be updated soon. Seriously this time. Okay anywho enjoy and review! x**

* * *

The first thing that Jane did when she thought she was pregnant was go to the doctor. He confirmed that she was about seven weeks along. She still felt as though the doctor was wrong. It was only when her own body started telling her that she was pregnant that she believed it.

She was sick almost every morning and sometimes in the middle of the night. She was additionally very nauseous during the day. Certain smells like coffee or cooking food would make her stomach turn. Paul even mentioned how she was out of sorts. He noticed that she was frequently fatigued. She found herself sleeping longer than usual or taking naps throughout the day.

Her moods changed quickly and with gusto. She could go from extreme laughter to hysterical sobbing. She found herself unable to watch the daily news or read the newspaper because stories or passages would cause her to become highly emotional.

When the doctor told her that she was with child, Jane didn't want to tell Paul. She knew she'd have to tell him eventually, but she tried to hide it. For a few days, she wondered if she wanted to go through with it. She finally decided to tell him. After all, he was bound to notice the symptoms sooner or later.

She waited nervously for him to come home and stood up immediately when he entered. She tried to wipe the tears away from her eyes before they talked. He was struggling to get into the house with his guitar, the mail, and the newspaper.

"Paul," she said, her voice cracking.

"Yeah, what is it?" he said as he distractedly put his things down. He only noticed that she was crying a few moments later. "Hey, whoa, what's the matter, love?" She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Paul," she repeated quietly. She rested her head on his shoulder and he put his hand on her back.

"Sweetheart-,"

"Can we not talk? Just for a second?" she whispered. "Can't you just hold me? Please?" He was utterly confused but he held her tightly nonetheless.

"Yeah, yeah," he said gently. "I'll hold you for as long as you want." Her tears rolled off of his leather jacket as she clung to him. They stood there for about a minute before Jane finally lifted her head and spoke.

"What would you say if I told you I was pregnant?" He hugged her tightly.

"Jane, darling, that's great!" he said tensely, his face in a forced smile.

"You're not happy," she stated. He shook his head wildly.

"No, not, that's not it at all! I'm thrilled. Really, I am." He kissed her and tried to convince them both that this was a good thing.

She smiled and told him how much she loved him. In the next breath, however, she was screaming at the top of her lungs because he demanded that she quit acting and that they get married. He said that since she was having kids, a job should no longer be necessary and the children should be the main concern.

"I'm not making you stop what you love because you're becoming a parent!" she argued tearfully.

"It's not up for discussion." Her face twisted angrily as she stormed out of the room. He followed her and grabbed her wrist softly.

"I'm not quitting," she warned.

"Let's compromise," he said calmly.

"No! I'm not going to stop acting." He simply stared at her until she calmed down.

"I'm just suggesting that you stop acting until the kid is about three," he said quietly. She stuck her nose up defiantly. "Be a bloody mum for three years and you can go back to doing whatever the hell you want."

"Fine," she said quietly. Her eyes began to tear up. "I'll be a good mother, right?" Paul cringed at her sudden change in moods. "Right?"

"Of course! You'll be the best." She nodded and hugged him tightly.

Jane ended up finishing the movie and abiding by Paul request. She reluctantly kept the house in order while he worked. Every so often, she would smile slightly at the sparkling diamond on her left ring finger. She announced that now would be as good a time as any to tell their families the good news. First, they went to the Asher residence.

Margaret and Clare, her mother and sister, were ecstatic when they heard the news, but Richard and Peter, her father and older brother, were less than thrilled. Peter didn't like the fact that Paul was making his sister quit her job for his sake. Jane had to calm her father and brother down by explaining the agreement that she and Paul had come to.

Paul and Jane's parents sat down to have a talk and a drink while Jane talked to her siblings. They were in her room as she paced and bit her nails.

"You alright?" Clare asked. Jane shot her a frantic glance.

"Well, yes, besides the fact that I'm completely freaking the hell out!" she said. Her pacing sped up and Peter glanced at his youngest sister.

"Calm her down, will you?" he asked as he edged out of the room.

"Relax, Jane," Clare ordered.

"Relax?" she laughed. "I have a four month old…_thing _in my stomach! I dunno what it is, but it's got McCartney blood and it's coming with a vengeance."

"The dramatization is nearly suffocating."

"Not the time," she sighed, flopping on the bed.

"Hey, it's not all bad," Clare said brightly.

"How so?"

"It probably won't have that dreadful shade of orange hair that you're curse with," she laughed. Jane socked her in the arm quickly. "Ouch! Mum! Jane's being a bully!"

"I'm not! She's being a twerp!" Jane retorted. "Get your filthy hands off of my face, four eyes!" Downstairs, Margaret rolled her eyes.

"Twenty years old and she's still the bossy big sister," she chuckled. "You're sure you're ready for her, Paul?"

"I sure hope so," he said nervously.

The couple spent the night at Jane's parents' house before they took a plane to Liverpool. There, they met Paul father, brother, stepmother, and stepsister the news. They were all very happy and Paul's stepmother talked to Jane about the wedding arrangements. She and Paul had decided just to get married at the registry office in London. Paul stepsister, Ruth, bounced around the couple and was happy that there would be a new baby around soon.

After their tour of the family houses, they finally settled back in at their own home. Jane was currently five months along in her pregnancy. The doctor told her that she was larger than an average woman of her time of pregnancy and that she needed to watch her carbohydrate intake. She cut down on bread, but otherwise continued as she normally lived.

Paul was busy working on getting the band's latest album done so that he could support Jane at and after the birth. She grew nervous as her stomach got larger. She was very petite, so people were bound to notice.

A few days after the guest room was converted into a nursery, complete with circus and underwater themed wallpaper, Paul and Jane were married. It was a small affair with only the family and a few very close friends. Jane's stomach was barely noticeable in the dress she wore and it was a beautiful summer day as rice was thrown over their heads. As God and their guests as witnesses, they were finally bound together as one.

Jane was out with Maureen shopping one day when they were attacked by paparazzi. Flashbulbs popped as Jane grabbed Mo's hand and pulled her out of the stores along with their purchases. The hailed a cab quickly and relaxed into the seat.

"Close one," Mo commented as she sifted through her bag.

"Yeah," Jane said angrily. An article of children's clothing flopped out of the bag and she nudged it back in with her foot. "I'm bloody tired of all this always happening every time we go out." Maureen shrugged.

"We're pregnant with the most popular babies in England," she said. "It figures. Besides. It's all a part of this life we signed up for."

"I wish I could sign out," Jane muttered. The taxi dropped Maureen off first before proceeding to St. John's Wood.

"Jane?" Paul yelled from upstairs.

"Yes, I'm home," she called back. She was seized in pain for a moment before it dissipated. She let out a breath and set her bags down. "I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap and there are leftovers in the refrigerator." Another pain settled in her stomach as Paul descended the stairs.

"What's the matter?" he asked. She placed a hand on her stomach as the pain went away. "Stay still for a minute." She shooed him away.

"I'm fine. Just let me sit down." He walked her to the couch and she sighed as she finally fell off of her feet. "Much better."

"So, Jane, we should talk," he started. She nodded before her eyes went unfocused and she gasped. "What? What's wrong?" She grabbed his hand and held it to her stomach.

"It's moving," she breathed. He put his other hand on her stomach and looked at her startled eyes. "Can you feel it?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "What's it doing?"

"It feels like it's doing flips. Really, it feels like there's a bird flying around in there." He tickled her and she swatted his hands away as she laughed. "Knock it off!" Paul cleared his throat.

"Child, this is your father," he said in a booming baritone. Jane laughed harder. "You stop those acrobatics in your mum's stomach. You hear me?" The baby kicked as if on cue. "That's more like it!"

"It can hear you!" she said excitedly. "Try it again! Sing to it!"

"Daisy, Daisy, sing me a song or two," he crooned.

"Oh, yuck!" she said, scrunching up her nose. "I've never liked that song."

"Oh."

"Paul?"

"Yes?"

"What about names?" she said nervously. "We can't go on calling the baby 'It' for its whole life." He bit his lip in consideration as Jane stared at him. He shook out a cigarette, lit it, and took a slow, measure inhalation. As he blew the smoke out, he turned to her.

"I've always like the name Samantha," he finally said. "Lots of room for nicknames and what not." He watched her reaction as she considered it.

"Samantha McCartney," she tried. "Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I like it." He glowed slightly as she sat back.

"You tired," he said suggestively. She leaned up and kissed him.

"Exhausted," she said apologetically. He kissed her head and wrapped his arm around her. "So what about for a boy?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Maybe Ben or something."

"Maybe," she agreed. "Did you know that it's the size of a squirrel right now? Isn't that weird?"

"A baby as big as a squirrel?" he laughed. He touched her stomach. "Oi! Squirrel! Listen here! I won't have any rodents as a son, understand?"

"He likes your laugh," she smiled. She struggled to keep her eyes open as she began to lean on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm just so tired. It's been a long day and-,"

"It's fine," he said as he opened that night's newspaper. She fell asleep and snored softly in his ear. A few minutes later, he laid her down on the couch and heated up some dinner and tea. She woke up to groggily eat a bit and immediately staggered to the bedroom to go to sleep.

Paul went out that night with John and got completely drunk. He convinced himself that he was furious at Jane, but as he drove home, he couldn't for the life of him figure out a reason why. When he got in, Jane was making a cup of tea. He immediately started arguing with her, pointing out every little flaw that he could find with her, her life, and their relationship.

"And the kid! Is it really mine? Or is it that bloke you were with at dinner in Rome? Thought I wouldn't find out, didn't you?" he accused. He saw her confused face turn red with rage.

"Are you serious?" she shouted. "I would _never _do that to you! You obviously do it to me. You told me yourself!"

"Don't turn this around on me," he growled.

"Turn what around? I don't even know what this is about!" she yelled. "All I ever did was love you. I was a kid and you took that away from me. And forgive me if I tend to romanticize the past, but I thought that we were in love together. I didn't think it was one sided."

"So you want me to hate you?" he hissed.

"No! Love me!" she screamed at him. This argument that had started over nothing had quickly escalated into the biggest fight of their relationship. He grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides tightly. As she stared into his drunken eyes, she felt disgusted with him.

"Love me! Love me!" he mocked. "That's all I ever fucking hear from you!"

"I should've never talked to you. I should've never married you. I knew you would do something stupid like this!" she spat.

"No, you brought this upon yourself," he growled.

"It's all your fault!"

"Shut up!" he roared. "Don't you dare put me down! Don't you _dare_ tell me those lies straight to my face!" He pushed her and she stumbled back into the wall and fell to the floor. "You want to start with me?"

"Stop!"

"Get on your feet!" he ordered. She stood and angrily stormed away from him.

"I'm leaving and I'm raking this kid!" she yelled.

"You're not going anywhere with my kid," he slurred. He took her arm and pulled her back. He shook her violently. "Don't you ever try to take him from me!"

"Stop!" she yelled again. Paul, out of breath, finally released his hold on her. "Jesus H. Christ, Paul! Can't we ever just talk? Why do you always have to drink when you're upset?" He plopped down on the couch and put his head in his hands.

"Just get away from me," he groaned.

"But I care about you."

"I don't care about me," he said quietly. "You don't understand."

"Tell me what's the matter," she said, sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"One day," he shuddered. "I'll tell you one day. I'm sorry. For this and for everything." He kissed her over and over. "Forgive me. I love you."

"I love you too, dear."


	4. Chapter 4

**Guys! I'm updating! Check it out! I am a on a roll (not so much with homework, but something's gotta give)! Okay I'm going to bed so in the meantime, you all enjoy another exciting chapter!**  
**Enjoy & Review! xxx**

* * *

"So you'll be home soon, right?" Jane asked as Paul drove to the airport. He let out a deep breath.

"I dunno, love," he said quietly. "This isn't something I can just sleep on. I need some time to think." She nodded sadly and placed her hand on her stomach. They rode in silence for about twenty minutes before they pulled up to the airport. He grabbed his bags and they waited in the terminal together. It was unusually quiet for a Wednesday afternoon. There were no fans and the people they saw simply walked by with a nod. Jane shifted on her aching feet nervously.

"Where are you going to go?" she asked. He didn't say anything. He just took her hand and continued to stare out of the window. "This isn't goodbye, is it?"

"Of course not," he said, not taking his eyes away from the tarmac. "It'll never be goodbye." An attendant informed him that he could board the plane. He finally looked his wife and gave her a quick kiss.

"Paul!" she said as he began to walk away. "What about-,"

"Squirrel?" he smiled. "I'll be back in time, sweetheart. Don't worry." Her eyes still looked sad and frightened so he pulled her into a warm hug.

"Ring as soon as you get there," she told him. He nodded and let her go.

"Bye, Jane." He picked his bags back up and walked out the door to the plane. As he climbed the steps he turned round and waved to her. She kept her hands by her sides and stared at him until the plane's door closed. She watched it take off and fly out of her sight before she turned to get the car and go home.

Paul sat back in his seat and sighed heavily. He felt like a real heel for leaving Jane while she was pregnant, but he couldn't stay there any longer. He was going mad in that house. All they did was fight or be completely silent. He hated having to take on more responsibility than he already had. In his eyes, he and his friends were still kids finding their way in the world. He hated getting older because he thought he was only good at being young.

He went to Los Angeles. He enjoyed the plane ride more than the actual trip. He tried to phone Jane every day, but he felt bad when he talked to her. He stayed in ignored her for two months which was the longest he'd ever willingly stayed away from her. She tried to ring his hotel room every night, but he would just close his eyes and let it ring. Finally, in his third month there, he began to miss her voice, her eyes, her kisses, her cooking, her everything. He packed up and caught the last flight to London for that night.

What Paul didn't think about for those three months was how Jane was doing. She had to go through the final and most difficult stage of her pregnancy alone. She didn't tell her family that she and Paul'd had a falling out and that's why he left her. She was too proud to accept her mother or sister's help. She and Maureen shopped for the things they needed for the babies.

Mo called her to tell her that Paul was back in town, so she anxiously awaited his arrival. What she didn't know was that the second Paul stepped foot in London, he didn't want to see her. In short, he was scared shitless of what he might find. Instead of going home, he immediately went to John's house without telling her. Jane's back and stomach suffered from rolling cramps as she phoned everyone she knew that Paul might've been with. She finally rang John.

"Hello?" he answered.

"John, it's Jane," she said quickly, wincing as she felt another wave of pain. She tried to sound calm and controlled. "Paul round?"

"Eh," he hesitated. He watched Paul shake his head and take a long swig of scotch. "No. I'll, ah…I'll keep an eye out for him."

"Alright, thanks," she said painfully. John frowned slightly at her tone. "Actually, could I maybe talk to Cyn? Immediately? It's about the baby."

"The baby?" John repeated. Paul's head snapped up right away. "You alright?"

"Just please let me talk to Cynthia!" she snapped. "Please hurry."

"Alright, alright," he said quickly. "Cyn! Come get the phone!" Paul stared at the phone blankly until Cynthia came to answer the phone.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Jane," she smiled. Suddenly her face went ashen. "What's wrong? Yes…uh huh…" There was a long pause and everyone could hear Jane's hysterical voice travelling through the phone. "Oh! Oh god, I'm on my way over! Sit down and don't move!" Cynthia put on her coat and grabbed her pocketbook. Paul stood up suddenly.

"What's the matter with her?" he asked, swaying slightly.

"Oh, she sounds so bad!" Cynthia said pityingly. "She was crying, just sobbing! She was looking for you because she was in so much pain!"

"What? Why?" he demanded. Cyn edged toward the door.

"She was having these pains and they were hurting her so badly. She was really upset because she said she needed you for some reason or the other. I think she might be in labor, honestly."

"I've gotta go with you, Cyn," he said as he pulled his shoes on. "She's all alone and she needs me!"

"Well, get a move on!" she urged. "You coming too, John?"

"No," he said. "I'll follow you in the other car so I can take you home." She nodded and they all rushed out of the door. Paul nervously tapped his foot as Cynthia drove through the rain. He leaned forward, squinting to see through the sheets of water. It took a little longer than usual because of the slippery roads. Thunder boomed as the car rolled up to his home. He was out of the door before the car stopped.

"Keep the car running!" Paul shouted over the rain. "We need to get her to the hospital!" Cynthia agreed as Paul ran through the gates and to his front door.

As he unlocked it and stepped inside, he heard hysterical screaming. He took the stairs by twos and raced to the bedroom.

"Jane!" he yelled. She couldn't hear him and her screams intermixed with the thundering rain. "Jane!" He finally found her curled up on the floor, one hand on her stomach and one hand clutching the telephone receiver. He fell down next to her and tried to lift her, but she screamed in complete agony.

"Paul," she cried. "I can't reach my mother!"

"Love, it's okay. We'll get you to the hospital and then we'll call your mum first thing."

"No! We need to call her right now!" she insisted. She groaned as a new cramp came right on top of the fading one. "Please, ring my mum! Get my mum!"

"C'mon. Cyn has the car running-,"

"Phone my damn mother!" she shrieked. "And you! Where were you?" Tears ran steadily down her red cheeks.

"Jane, we've got to go."

"No! Tell me where you were! I spent all fucking night looking for you, you selfish bastard!"

"I'm not fighting with you tonight because you're about to have a bloody baby," he hissed. He was quickly losing his patience. "Now get the _fuck up_ so we can go."

"It hurts so badly," she moaned. "Don't make me move." She cried harder and held her back.

"Let's go, love," he said softly. He struggled at first, but managed to lift her up and cradle her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder. He could hear her rapid heartbeat and felt her warm, labored breath against his neck.

"You have to let my mum know," she murmured painfully. "You know that, right?"

"I'll phone your mum and your dad and Peter and Clare and the bloody Pope if you want me to, sweetheart." He kissed her head and walked her out. Cynthia was waiting with an umbrella and the three of them rushed to the car. Paul drove, so Cyn sat in the backseat with Jane so she could rest her head on her lap. Jane asked for her mother incessantly.

At the hospital, a nurse stared slack jawed at the frenzied and soaking wet Beatle as he carried his wife into the building. He carefully set her on her feet as Cynthia rushed to the payphone. Jane leaned on Paul so that he supported most of their weight and breathed very heavily.

"We could use a little assistance," Paul said to the nurse. She immediately jumped into action and put Jane into a wheelchair. "Wait! Jane!"

Her frantic blue eyes met his just as the doors swung closed and Paul could hear her crying for him. Cynthia told him that John was outside and they'd come back in the morning. He said goodbye and quickly phoned Jane's parent's house. They didn't answer the first three times but Clare answered the fourth time. He told her what was happening and she promised to tell Margaret as soon as she and Richard got home.

Next, he rang his father. Jim was over the moon and promised to come visit them in the next week or so. Finally, Paul collapsed on a chair. Not only was he completely jetlagged, but he was just fading out of drunkenness and had a hangover in addition to his headache. He leaned his head back and drifted off. About three hours later, he was shaken awake.

"Sir," the doctor said to him. "Your wife is about to go into labor."

"About to?" he asked, glancing at his watch. "What's she been doing? Swimming the bleeding English Channel?"

"By the looks of her, you might think as much," the doctor mumbled. "She's had a lot of trouble and she's getting rather weak. She asked for her mother quite a bit."

"She's been alerted and is hopefully en route."

"Well, your wife's sure having a time of it back there," he said. "My guess is that it won't be much longer, now."

"Well, let me know when she has the bugger, will you?" He took a sip of a pop he'd bought. "I'm worried about her."

"She should be just fine, Mr. McCartney." Suddenly they heard an earth-shattering, blood curdling scream. "And it's about time." The doctor patted Paul's shoulder and rushed back inside. Paul couldn't take it. He tried covering his ears but he could hear the pain in her voice reverberate through his skull. He stepped out into the frigid morning and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. He checked on her progress after each one. He couldn't believe it had taken over an hour to have a kid.

Meanwhile, Jane was about to pass out from pain. The doctor encouraged her to stay focused and to not give up. She wiped her own tears away and lost consciousness when the doctor announced that she'd had a healthy baby boy. The last thing she remembered was his look of utter shock.

She was quickly awakened so the doctor could have her attention. Her vision was hazy but she tried to concentrate on his words.

"Another…" she heard. His voice faded in and out. "Stay awake…another."

"Another what?" she murmured as she began to slip into unconsciousness.

"Baby! Another baby!" a nurse at her side said. She glanced disbelievingly at her before she passed out again.

They made her come to once more. It took her another half of an hour to have the second baby. The doctor told her that she'd also had a baby girl. The last thing she thought of before she went to sleep was how in the world she would tell Paul that they had twins.

The doctor ended up breaking it to him. He woke Paul again and congratulated him on having a healthy baby boy and girl. He grabbed the doctor's arm and asked when he could see her. The doctor's face went pale.

"She lost a lot of blood," he said quietly. "So it might be a while."

"She'll be alright. Right?" Paul asked hysterically.

"Sure hope so," he responded. "Don't worry, sir. She'll…she'll be fine."

The doctor was indeed correct. After a few blood transfusions, Jane was better and fast asleep. Paul was allowed to go in and see her and he thought that she had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment, sleeping peacefully as she sun bounced off of her red and gold hair. He kissed her and her eyes fluttered open. Recognition flickered in them.

"Paul!" she exclaimed. "I have to tell you! We had-,"

"Twins," he laughed tiredly. "Looks like we've got two It McCartneys now."

"Oh, stop it," she giggled. "I didn't get to see them. Did you?"

"No. I was waiting for you to wake up." She nodded.

"Is my mum here yet?"

"No." he took her warm hand and laced his fingers through hers. "We should probably figure out some names, love."

"I still like Samantha," she yawned. "Let's use that one for the girl. And I was reading a book and I saw the name Nathaniel. I think that name is nice."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Strong, handsome."

"Like his daddy," she smiled. He grinned back and kissed her fingers.

"So that's it, then. Samantha and Nathaniel McCartney?"

"Sounds good to me."

"It's settled." He felt a sudden weight crash upon his. "Holy shit, Jane. We're parents."

"Yeah," she laughed. She winced a bit.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just a little pain," she said, shifting into a more comfortable position. "They couldn't give me anything for the pain because I was so far along labor wise." He helped her sit up so she could talk without wanting to fall asleep.

"Jane, I'm so sorry about how terrible I've been to you recently."

"Well, you haven't been able to be terrible to me for about three months," she said crossly.

"Really, love," he said seriously. "I want to try and make you happier when we're together. I'm truly sorry for the arguments and everything I've said to hurt you. I swear I want to change. Please believe me." She tiredly took his face in her hands and kissed him softly.

"I do believe you." He carefully put his arms around her.

"So you're not still angry with me?" he asked. "For staying away for so long?"

"I was never angry with you," she sighed.

"Then what were you?"

"Hurt," she said simply. He closed his eyes and kissed her cheek. "I don't know what it's like to land and not race to your door."

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much," he told her. She touched his dark hair gently and silently accepted his apology.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone! I'm finally updated thanks to a few nice words :) Biiiiiig shoutout to for her thoughtful message and persuading me to update. I love hearing for everyone it really brightens my day. Anyway, here's the chapter and yeah! Enjoy and review! x**

* * *

A petite blonde nurse came into the room and told them that the doctor was testing their babies for any diseases or infections. Jane was suddenly very alert.

"Go with them, Paul," she said quickly. "Make sure they're okay." He stood and followed the nurse out of the room. He noticed her small grin.

"I know who you are, you know," she chirped. He raised a tired eyebrow.

"Do you now?"

"Yep! You're Paul McCartney of the Beatles. That's me boyfriend's favorite band."

"Is it?" he asked, friendlier now that he knew she wouldn't flirt with him.

"That's right. He really digs the sound."

"Gear. Listen, maybe I can sign something for him a little later."

"Really?" she said. Her eyes lit up. "That'd be great! Thank you!"

"Not a problem," he smiled. They finally approached the nursery and he peered at the babies through the large window. "It's weird. I can't even tell which ones are mine. There are so many of them."

"Yep." The nurse squinted and looked back at him with a triumphant grin as she pointed at the glass. "Those'll be yours, I bet! Third row back, fifth and sixth from the left. See? The little tag says _McCartney_." He moved to see where she was looking and nodded appreciatively.

"There, eh…"

"Not very pretty at first, I reckon, but those two'll be lookers. I can guarantee it," he said confidently. A doctor and a matronly nurse came in and plucked the babies from the cribs.

"Wait, where are they going?"

"The lab," she said as they continued walking. She leaned over a desk, grabbed a clipboard, and looked through the information as they moved. "That's where they'll check the babies for anemia, apnea and bradycardia, low blood pressure, bronchopulmonary dysplasia, and a bunch of other infections. Twins seem to have those problems a lot. Also they'll check them a bit more because your wife had moderate preeclampsia."

"Um-,"

"Basically hypertension or high blood pressure. She's fine though, don't you worry. Those doctors will make sure your babies are as healthy as a horse and as strong as an ox." He let out a breath of relief.

"Thanks."

"No problem! I'll check on them and have them brought right to your wife's room when they're ready!" she said as she skipped away.

"Thanks again…eh…"

"Daisy!" she called behind her shoulder. "The name's Daisy!"

_Guess I never really liked that song either_, he thought as he walked quickly back to Jane's room. He suddenly felt sick as he moved through the hallway. Everything was moving too fast. First he was a kid, and before he could blink, he was a husband and a father. Paul suddenly turned on his heel and went to the phone booth outside of the hospital.

The phone buzzed for a few seconds as he lit a cigarette and shivered. After about five rings, Mike picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mike. It's me. Let me speak to Dad."

"Paul! How's Jane? Has she had the kid yet?" he asked.

"Fine. She had them a few hours ago and they're all doing fine."

"They're? how many'd you have, there?"

"Two."

"What'd ya name them?" he prodded.

"Samantha and Nathaniel, now, Mike, I really need to talk to Dad-,"

"Middle names?"

"Mike!" he yelled. Mike hastily passed the phone to his father. "Dad?"

"Hello, son," Jim said amicably. "What's the matter with you?"

"I can't do this, Dad. I can't handle getting older and I feel like I'm about to lose control and do something stupid, so I thought I ought to have a talk with my old man."

"You flatter me, Paul," he answered.

"Dad, you've gotta help me understand what I'm doing and why I feel like this! I just want to pack up and leave and never have to face anything again. I'd give anything. I'd give anything in the world to have everything go back to the way it was before this all happened."

"Try turning sixty-five," Jim chuckled. "I'll bet you'll renegotiate with yourself on that deal."

"Am I doing right, then?" he asked quietly. "Is this the right thing?"

"Son, you're doing right by your family by staying. Let me tell you that once you get past the terribly frightening time of the first few hours of fatherhood, there's nothing that'll take you away from where you are. Don't stop what you're doing and don't for a minute change the place you're in."

"Dad-,"

"And don't think that I couldn't ever understand. I tried my hand at the situation you're dealing with right now. And Paul, honesty, I don't think you could've left them even if you wanted to." Paul took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Dad."

"What're the names?"

"Nathaniel and Samantha."

"They're nice," Jim said.

"Thanks."

"You should go see Jane now."

"You're right. Thanks again, Dad," Paul said quietly. "Bye now." When he hung up, he felt a strong urge to be at Jane's side. When he approached her room, her heard quiet baby sounds. He peered in and widened his eyes. The boy was asleep in a crib next to the bed and Jane held the girl in her arms. She looked very tired, but her eyes glowed slightly.

"Paul," she said when she looked up. She had a huge smile. "They've got my eyes!"

"And my hair," he said quietly, touching his son's soft brown locks. "Sam's a blondie, though. Nate looks just like you." Jane shook her head adamantly.

"No!" she argued. "They're the spitting image of you! Are you blind?" The nurse in the room looked at the babies and nodded.

"She's right. Apart from the eyes, I bet somebody'll confuse you for a twin too!" the nurse winked. Paul carefully picked up the sleeping baby and cradled him gently as the nurse left. It was just the four of them—the hours old babies and their frightened parents.

"I can't believe this day came so quickly," he murmured. Jane nodded in agreement.

"If you think about it, it's like we're holding our future in our hands," she smiled. She ran a finger down her daughter's soft cheek. "So many dreams. So many plans."

"Even after all these years," he said softly. "After all the laughter and all the tears, I always thought I'd walk away, but now I couldn't leave if I tried."

A few days later, they were able to leave the hospital with their kids. Paul quickly had to renovate the nursery to accommodate two babies. When he helped Jane out of the car, he was afraid to hold the babies while she climbed the porch stairs. He was scared of hurting their small, fragile bodies.

Jane promptly went to sleep, finally being able to sleep in her own comfortable bed. Paul couldn't sleep. He was afraid that something might happen to the babies and he wouldn't be awake to help them. After about three hours of his protective surveillance over the children, Jane crossly called him into the room and told him to sleep.

Samantha and Nathaniel McCartney were quiet babies. They didn't cry much—they only whined when they were hungry or tired. They seemed to be in sync. Once one started fussing, the other would copy.

Nathaniel, affectionately called Nate, was more independent than his sister. If one of his parents was not paying attention to him, he would wait calmly—perhaps take a short nap. He learned to smile a few weeks after his birth and laughed often. His blue eyes mirrored his sister's and mother's and his dark brown hair was just like Paul's.

Samantha, or Sam as she was quickly dubbed, had a harder time being separated from her parents. At nine weeks old, she was barely out of her mother's arms and wouldn't sleep without Paul singing to her. A true prima donna, she silently refused to eat or sleep without praise or cuddling from one or both of her parents.

The young couple was indeed frazzled by their huge responsibility. Paul had instigated many rows with Jane over whether they were ready for this commitment. She argued that he was barely there to be a part of any commitment because of his job. That line usually provoked him to leave the family home in a rash with occasionally flashed of undiluted fury. Though he sometimes became unbearably angry with his wife, Paul never laid a hand on her during that rough first year.

As many problems as they had, they had twice as many joys. They were brought closer together, as they had to work as a team to care for the children. They drifted to each other's side subconsciously and were attuned to each other. On days when they were apart, they would speak on the phone for short times just to hear each other's voices.

The first year went by quickly. Paul's band stopped touring and released a new album. Jane, though she loved her children, was anxiously counting down the days until she could go back to acting. Paul frequently went on trips around England for business and had one particularly long one on the twins' first birthday party. He promised to try to come home, but he told Jane not to hold her breath.

"Thanks so much for bringing little Christopher to the party, Cyn," Jane smiled. Her and Paul's backyard was decorated with yellow and green balloons, streamers, and games. Paul pulled out all the stops so that if he didn't make it home in time, his kids would still have fun. He even hired a gardener to take care of the forest he called a garden.

"Not a problem," Cynthia replied, picking the two year old up. "With the men gone, it's just us girls, eh?" Jane grinned as Maureen and Patti came over, each holding a twin.

"This is nice," Maureen said as she exuberantly bounced Nate on her hip. "We're finally without the men and it's so refreshing! The party's turned out wonderfully. Good work, Jane, darling." Patti nodded in agreement and smoothed down Samantha's blonde pigtails. Jane glanced at her watch.

"Yes, I suppose. But I just wish Paul was here—you'd think he could work the kids' birthday into such a 'busy schedule'," she sighed. She took Nate from Maureen and kissed his freckled cheek. "But, oh well. It's there day, right?" She looked to her friends for reassurance. They nodded quickly.

"Right," Patti said with a smile. They set the kids down and they ran to play with the other children. After a few hours of socializing and enjoying the nice day which was so much different than the day of the twins' birth, Jane had the kids blow out their candles. Night moved in quickly and soon the partygoers were weary. They said goodbye and thanked Jane and the other wives for hosting such a lovely party. Cynthia, Patti, and Maureen helped clean up before saying their own goodbyes.

"Did you have fun today, love?" Jane asked Samantha. She nodded tiredly and rested her head on Jane's shoulder. Jane lifted her sleeping son up with her other arm and he nuzzled into her neck. "Alright. Off to bed with you two, then." She tucked them into their cribs and blessed them each with a kiss on the cheek. Nate held onto his beloved mother's long red hair and she carefully pried his fists away.

Jane waited angrily in the kitchen for an hour and a half when Paul finally walked in the door. He seemed slightly drunk when he smiled widely at her.

"Jane," he greeted with his arms wide open. She ignored him and stood from the table, putting her wine glass in the sink. "Jane, love, I tried to make it, I really did! But-,"

"But you couldn't put off downing a pint long enough to celebrate your children's first birthday. No need to explain. I understand." He grabbed her wrist gently as she tried to ascend the stairs. "Let go of my arm."

"What's got you so upset?" he asked. "They'll have a hundred more birthdays."

"It hurts me that you put your family second, Paul," she said bluntly.

"It was one time!"

"It's every time. Your job comes first, regardless of what's to compare."

"You're exaggerating. It shouldn't hurt you like that. You used to be thick-skinned, you know." She stared at him before roughly yanking her arm from his steady grasp.

"It hurts because it mattered, Paul." She quickly went up the stairs and left him at the bottom, wondering about where he had gone wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

**Update alert! Okayyy new chapter people, I sure hope you like it! P.S. To anyone who is reading "Tough Girl" by me, don't forget to vote! Poll is on my profile! **

**Anyway, enjoy and review! x**

* * *

When he finally went to bed, Paul drunkenly admitted everything that he had been hiding from her. He told her about all the women he'd considered being with and all the drugs and all of the lies. Jane made no emotional response. She rolled over and went to sleep.

She didn't talk to Paul for an entire day. He was going mad. He wanted her conversation and needed the warmth from her eyes. He felt as though she was slowly trying to erase their history. The more she ignored him, the more he needed her. In his eyes, she was an angel. He had his flaws but in her, he could see none. She might as well have had wings.

"Jane, love, I told you how sorry I am," he said after she set the kids in the backyard to play with Martha. "You know how much I love you three. C'mon, what can I do to make it better?" She finally had enough and slammed her fist on the table.

"You want to make it better? Then piss off," she snapped.

"What have I done to make you hate me?" he asked.

"I don't hate you," she sighed. "I'm just so disappointed that you turned into everything you said you wouldn't be."

"Like what?"

"You said you wouldn't be a workaholic anymore. You said there'd be no one else but me. You said you wouldn't drink anymore. You said that you wouldn't put your job ahead of you kids. And you said you wouldn't lie." She turned on her heel and went to keep an eye on the children.

She proudly observed her kids. Most kids were barely taking their first steps at thirteen months, and her kids were already walking confidently. She saw Sam's blonde head bob into the garden quickly. The twins giggled frequently as they chased Martha through the yard. Paul came outside to talk to Jane.

"Listen, Jane," he said. "You're the most important thing in the world to me, and I want nothing more than to make you happy. So, please. Tell me what I can do to do that." He watched sadly as she turned away from him and wiped a rogue tear falling from her eye.

"I know you cheat on me," she said shakily. His eyes moved away from her face guiltily. "No matter how much you try to hide it or how much I try to deny it, I know. But I don't know why I still love you and why I keep forgiving things you haven't even told me."

"Jane-,"

"But I think it's because I'm just sad because I really love you. I love you more than I've loved anyone in a long, long time. And last night I got slapped in the face with the reality of the fact that I'll never truly be able to call you completely mine and that isn't a very big deal to you but it's tearing me apart," she rambled. He stared at her in disbelief. He had no idea how she actually felt about him.

"Love, I-," She suddenly lurched into his arms and hugged him tightly. "I'm so sorry." He held her just as tight as kissed her.

"It's alright," she said softly. He took her hand softly just as they heard two high pitched squeals of joy. Samantha scampered up to Paul and waved her hands above her to be picked up. Nate desperately tried to climb onto Jane's lap.

"Dad!" Sam giggled. Paul grinned and tickled her mercilessly and Nate leaned back on Jane's chest comfortably. "Ah! Dad! No!"

Jane smiled at her daughter's laughter and rhythmically smoothed Nate's hair. It wasn't until Paul held her upside down by her feet and swung her round that Jane's face turned down.

"Paul," she said disapprovingly. "That's not safe and she has no concept of muscle fatigue." He swung her back up and sat down on the chair opposite Jane. "Can I have her, please?" He deliberated for a moment.

"No," he decided. She reached for Samantha, but Paul moved the baby away. "You've been a full-time mother for the past year without any days out. Why don't you call up your sister or some friends and have a day away?"

"That's alright," she said nervously. "I don't feel comfortable leaving them here."

"Do you find me incompetent?"

"Slightly."

"Well, sorry. No choice." He plucked Nate off of Jane's lap. "Go see your mother. That way you'll be close enough."

"Paul," she argued. "I really don't want to leave them. Here, I'll take them with me."

"No, Jane. Look, you're dressed and your hair is done and you look beautiful, so go spend some time with your family!" She casted a wary look at them. "I've got it under control."

"Okay," she said as she grabbed her purse. "Just make sure they eat at ten and give them a nap at twelve. Give them a bath when they wake up and-,"

"I'll handle it," he said with a grin. He kissed her nose and sent her on her way. As her car pulled out of the driveway, he smiled at the twins. "So, what shall we three do today?"

"Mum?" they said together, their voices dangerously close to tears. Sam was the first to start bawling and Nate began to squirm nervously.

"Come on, you two, she hasn't been gone a minute and I'm already screwing up," he griped. "Come 'head. Let's have some fun, the lot of us!"

Meanwhile, Jane was trying to enjoy her mother and sister's company, but her thoughts wandered back to the kids.

"Maybe I should ring him," she said, reaching for the phone. Clare slapped her hand away.

"Get a grip! He can do it," she assured her older sister. Jane's hand hovered over the phone for a moment before she let it fall into her lap with a sigh.

"Right. Let's do something to take my mind off." Margaret and Richard took their kids out for supper and they all had a great time. Jane felt sixteen again as she giggled with her sister and teased her brother. She even allowed herself to stop worrying about her family.

Meanwhile, Sam was at home screaming. Nate sat contentedly on Paul's right knee as the left one bounced Samantha quickly.

"Sammy, calm down," he begged her. She held his shirt and bawled madly for her mother. He sighed and kissed her head tiredly. He looked at Nate and patted his head fondly. "How're you fairing son?"

Nate took his thumb out of his mouth and smiled pleasantly. Sam continued to cry loudly with no sign of slowing down. Paul put Nate to bed and tucked him in tightly. He quickly fell asleep and Paul wondered how Samantha could be so completely opposite from her brother.

He paced back and forth, rocking Sam slowly. He held her up to his heart and he could feel her relax. Her wails ceased and Paul's heartbeat slowly began to tire her out. Her high voice had turned into hoarse whimpers as she finally fell asleep.

"Thank God," he whispered, completely exhausted. He carefully put Sam into her crib and kissed her freckled pink cheek. "Good night, baby."

As he shut the door, he thought about how Jane managed to do this every day. She must've been a miracle worker to get Sam to cooperate. Nate was always a mellow little angel. He never cried or screamed. He loved his parents and his toy train and that was that.

He heard the front door unlock just as he changed into a pair of night clothes.

"Paul?" Jane called up the stairs as she threw her keys on the table and took off her coat. "Paul, dear, I'm home." She climbed the stairs and walked right into Paul's waiting arms. "Oh! Hi, love."

"Hi," he yawned. He hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead. "I dunno how you do this every day." She took his hand and they slowly ambled into the bedroom. He flopped onto the bed and she accidently fell on top of him. She giggled and laid her head on his chest.

"I don't know either," she admitted. But I'm really beginning to like it." He smiled and held her round her waist.

"Do you like it enough to not go back to acting?" he asked bitingly. She sat up and glared at him.

"Never," she spat. She turned away from him to change into her night clothes and she quietly wiped her tears away.

"Jane," he said exasperatedly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't serious. Don't cry."

"I had one thing that I loved more than anything and you took it from me," she accused. "You made me give it up. It was the one thing, Paul."

"More than anything?" he shot back. "More than me? More than your kids?" His words tripped her up and left her floundering for an explanation. "So you would give it all up just to be back on screen?"

She considered saying "yes" just to spite him, but she found that she couldn't tell that lie to herself. She didn't say anything—she just fell onto the bed and pulled the blankets over her. She turned away from him and concentrated on the sound of the clock ticking.

"Goodnight, Jane," he mumbled. She didn't respond. "I love you." She didn't answer him. He lay, unable to sleep for several minutes. She hadn't moved since they'd climbed into bed. He finally felt his eyes getting heavier and just before he fell asleep, he felt Jane's warm arm slide across his chest.

"I love you too," she whispered. "I love you beyond measure."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi everyone! Here's he latest update! If you like it, let me know and if you don't, also let me know!**

**Enjoy, vote, and PM me!**

* * *

Over the next year, Paul strove to be the wonderful husband and father that Jane wanted him to be. He was there for the major milestones of his children's lives and managed to stay on top of his work as well.

"Jane, are you ready?" Paul asked as he gathered the four large suitcases into the hallway. "Our flight leaves in an hour." He was taking the family on a vacation to Greece for three weeks and she took every possible precaution while she was packing for the four of them.

"Yes," she sighed, lugging their squirming twins down the stairs. She handed Sam to Paul and hugged Nate close to her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just tired."

"I love you when you're tired," he said offhandedly. He barely noticed that he'd said it but Jane peered at him curiously.

"Th-thanks, I guess," she stammered, surprised at his casual outburst. He suddenly kissed her tenderly, only extending the shock that she felt.

"Let's go," he said. She followed behind him and put the kids in the car as Paul put the luggage in the trunk. When they climbed in the front seat Paul immediately took Jane's hand and held it from the time they left to the time they arrived at the airport. They each carried one child and two bags , but they still too the time to glance at each other and smile.

"Jane!" someone called out. "Jane Asher!" They turned and saw a tall, blonde man running up to them.

"Robert!" Jane yelled back in glee. She dropped the bags and shoved Nate into Paul's arms as she ran toward the man. He hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks. "My God, it's been years!"

"Four," he clarified. "And you've settled down? Still as beautiful as ever though." Paul noticed how Jane's eyes never left Robert and her fingers twitched as if they ached to take his. "Would you introduce me?"

"Of course," she said, snapping out of her enamor. "Robert, this is my husband, Paul McCartney." She took Nate back and let Paul shake Robert's hand.

"Robert Garrison, pleasure to meet you," he smiled dashingly at Paul.

"Likewise," Paul said jealously. Jane stared at Robert with adoration and amazement in her eyes. He stood over Paul by about an inch and a half and had larger and more defined muscles. He was easily about six years older than Jane and, admittedly, almost godly attractive. This was the man that had once had his wife as an infatuated, sixteen year old puppet that obeyed his every word.

"And these are my children," Jane said quietly and reluctantly. "Samantha and Nathaniel."

"They're beautiful, Janie," he grinned. Paul couldn't help but frown. Jane threw a fit whenever someone called her Janie, but when this man did, she smiled and blushed like a schoolgirl.

"Well, our flight's leaving in a few minutes so we really must be off. Nice to meet you, chap," Paul said facetiously. Robert shook his hand again and clapped his back.

"Sure was," Robert agreed. He hugged Jane tightly and she had to try not to sigh. "Bye, Janie. I miss you. Ring me sometime, alright?"

"Of course," she said too quickly. "Goodbye." She watched him walk away until Paul cleared his throat.

"Let's go," he grumbled. They took everything to their terminal and gave their bags to the attendants. They were soon settled in their seats and Paul turned to her.

"How many times have you seen him since we've been married?" he asked.

"None."

"Before?"

"We did a movie together, so quite a bit," she laughed nervously.

"You saw him when you were in Italy," he said suddenly. Her face reddened behind the magazine she was reading. "Jane, did you sleep with him while we were there?"

"No," she squeaked out. She saw him relax visibly. "At least…not when we were there."

"Jane," he said shakily. "Stop. This isn't the time for games. Answer me. Did you sleep with him?"

"Yes, Paul," she whispered.

"When?"

"A few weeks before I left for Italy."

"How many times?"

"Paul ," she argued. "Why are you doing this? I'm living with the guiltiest conscience imaginable."

"How many times?" he asked again, his anger beginning to show. "Tell me, Jane. Don't lie."

"At least six," she said, her eyes brimming with tears. "Maybe seven or eight. Whenever he wanted to, really. Since I was about sixteen."

"You don't know what this means, do you?" he asked. He looked at Samantha leaning on her brother in the seat next to Jane with her blonde hair and blue eyes and felt detached from the kids all of a sudden. "Do you?"

"What, Paul?"

"The kids," he choked out. "They could not be mine. They could be his." Jane's head snapped over to him and her eyes set alight.

"Accuse them of not being yours one more time and you'll never see them again," she hissed. "Stop being jealous. They're not his, they're yours. I'm sorry for my mistakes, but it's not like you've never had your own. Other people have loved me, not just you. Get over it."

"Not the way I do," he denied. "No one has _ever _loved you the way I do."

"And how's that?"

"Completely, irrevocably, and unconditionally," he admitted. "Even if you had his kids, I don't know if I could love you any less, because you're all I have to love."

"Paul, stop it," she said.

"No, it true, you know," he nodded. "You're it." Even though he was upset about her and Robert, he pulled her into his lap.

"Really?"

"Really."

She took his face in her hands and she kissed him. Her hands wound themselves into his hair, caught either in knots or passion but whichever on it was, drew him closer. She traced his lips with hers which reminded him of wine and cigarettes and sometimes sandpaper when she said something especially cruel. When she bit him, he attempted to pull away but she whispered, "not yet."

He counted backwards in his head because even though he was grateful to have her, he was too sad to kiss her back. He lifted her off of his lap and she angrily turned away from him.

"You're being ridiculous," she said. "Why can you be angry with me for being with someone else and you always are?"

"I've been the best I could to you for the past few years and then I find this out?" She ignored him completely. "Jane." Still no response. "Fine, I'll just stop talking to you since you're going to be like this."

"No, no, _please _talk to me. I _crave _your attention," she drawled sarcastically. He took her hand and felt it slowly relax.

"Look, let's not fight, alright?" he said softly. "We'll have a lovely holiday with the kids just like we planned and we'll go out tonight and we'll stay by each other all night. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like a plan," she said back. He kissed her hand and let her rest her head on his shoulder for the remainder of the flight.

When they landed, Jane let Nate walk ahead of them while Sam slept soundly in her arms. They were attacked by the paparazzi as they left the airport, so Paul swiftly escorted his family into the waiting car. It took them a few minutes to get out of the crowd of people, but soon they were on their way to a secluded house Paul had bought.

"Should we walk to the beach when we get there, love?" he asked.

"Oh, honey, I'm right knackered," she yawned. "Do you mind if I sleep for a while? Why don't you take the kids to the water?"

"Mum," Sam whined. "You come to the water too."

"No, sweetheart, Mummy needs to rest," she tittered. The child's lower lip trembled as tears pooled in her big blue eyes.

"Please?" she asked. Paul and Nate made the same face as Sam did.

"Yeah, please?" Paul begged.

"Tell you what," she reasoned. "We'll _all_ sleep for a while and then we'll _all _go to the water." Paul smiled brightly and kissed her cheek.

"Brilliant." The car stopped at a house on the shore and Paul lugged all the bags in while Jane carried the kids in. He collapsed on the bed immediately, not realizing how tired he was. The kids slept on the other bed in the room and Jane ended up being the only one who was awake. She rubbed Paul's back absentmindedly as she flipped through a book she brought with her.

He hummed pleasantly as her soft touch floated around on his back. He rolled over and laid his head on her lap and her hand didn't break rhythm as she changed to stroking his soft brown hair. His eyes fluttered open slightly and she looked down at him in a way she never had. Not full of bad intentions or lust or disappointment or simply love, but softly and purely. Like she would look at her best friend.

"Lay down with me for a while, love," he yawned. She smiled and set her book aside before settling into his arms. He never wanted to forget the way her heart felt, fluttering against his chest. He hugged her until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Their rest was soon for naught when their children climbed onto the bed and bounced around them.

"Daddy! Let's go!" Sam giggled excitedly as she and her brother fell on top of him.

"We're sleepy, you lot," he groaned. They whined until Jane sighed and got up to help them get dressed for the beach. Paul changed into his swimming trunks and waited patiently for Jane and the kids to get ready. Sam clung to Jane's leg as she tried to pack towels and sandwiches and other necessities, and Nate sat on Paul's lap calmly.

"Come on, Sam, you brat," Jane grinned. "Go sit with Dad until it's time to go."

"No!" she whined. Jane sighed again and instructed Paul to grab some sunscreen so they could go. She followed behind with the cumbersome beach supplies and baby slowing her down a bit.

When they all reached the beach, Jane dropped the towels and food to cover the kids in sunscreen. The kids had, unfortunately, inherited her sensitive skin. While Paul's skin would turn gold and beautiful in the sun, hers would freckle and burn.

They played with the kids in the water for a while and Jane took a few pictures. Nate started to tire from the heat and from exhaustion, so he and Jane went to relax under the umbrella. Paul lay back on the sand as Sam played in the sand, but neither he nor Jane noticed when Sam wandered off.

"Paul!" Jane called. "Where's the baby?"

"She's with you," he called back.

"She's not! You were watching her!" she panicked. "Where is she?" She put Nate in his arms and ran off down the shore in search of her daughter. "Sam? Samantha!"

"Sammie?" Paul called as he and Nate walked followed. "Where are you, love?"

"Oh my God," Jane gasped. Her fingernails dug crescent moons into her skin as she doubled over in panic. "Sam!" Paul saw his child just before a wave engulfed her. Jane ran toward the water but Paul pushed her back, handed Nate to her, and sprinted into the waves.

He dove beneath the surface and barely felt his eyes sting as he looked for Sam. She was crying and inhaling water as she thrashed around a several feet away from him. He swam toward her and scooped her up quickly, holding her above his head as he walked through the water. Her tiny body convulsed with coughs and sobs.

"It's alright, love," he soothed her softly. "Everything's alright now." When they got to the shore, Jane snatched her out of Paul's grasp and held her tightly.

"You're so irresponsible that it makes me sick," she spat. He couldn't argue with her. "We're going inside."

As she walked away, Paul could see her body still trembling in fear.


	8. Chapter 8

**Yay! Update! This chapter took so long because I had a nearly fatal case of writer's block which was thankfully cured (close call). This chapter is really special because of the songs in it. If you've never heard Baby Mine or watched Dumbo, I highly suggest you do so because it just may be the best Disney movie ever made. Anyway, let me know what you think and enjoy! :) x**

* * *

Paul came back about an hour later. Nate was asleep next to Jane and Sam was being hugged tightly. Jane's eyes stared blankly when Paul came in. He took her hand and she held his tightly.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever experienced," she whispered. "To not be able to do anything but watch while my whole world seemed to fall apart what the most frightening thing I've ever gone through."

"I know," he said. "I'm so sorry. I should've been watching more carefully." She traced an arc on his hand with her thumb. He kissed the marks left in her skin by her fingernails and her breathing gradually slowed.

"No, it's my fault. Let's face it," she said sadly. "I'm a shit mother and we both know it. Although we never said it to one another I think we both knew. I let things become more important than the two of them. They're my world, you know that, right?" Her eyes begged him to believe her. He wrapped his arms around her softly.

"Of course I know that. You're such a wonderful mum, love," he told her gently. "Nothing can ever change that." He took picked up Nate and held the sleepy child on his lap. "Look at them, would you? Look how brilliant they are. It's because of you that they're so perfect." She smiled and kissed him.

"They are, aren't they?" she grinned. They stared at their kids and talked for a while longer, slowly falling back into the happy, immediate love they had felt at the beginning of their relationship. "You know, this really counts as our honeymoon, doesn't it?"

"No," he said. "You know I never wanted one of those." Jane looked down and bit her lip.

"Sorry," she sighed. "Must've forgot." She was quickly learning that it would save a lot more time to just stop the arguments before they began. Jane went to make supper with Nate on her hip. Paul rocked Sam gently.

"I didn't protect you too well, did I?" he asked. She cuddled deeper into his warm arms. "I never want you to be in danger again. I'll always be here for you, and I'm so glad you're alright." He fell asleep next to her and waited for dinner to be finished.

"Mummy," Nate said from the floor. Jane was busy sautéing vegetables, but managed to pay attention to her son at the same time.

"What is it, darling?" she asked.

"I'm hungry! Peanut butter?" he requested.

"No, dear, it's almost suppertime. You'll spoil your appetite," she scolded lightly. He quickly ran away and peered over the foot of Paul's bed. He tugged at his dad's sock until he woke up.

"What?" Paul groaned.

"Hungry," he whined. Paul pulled Nate onto the bed and wrapped him up in his other arm.

"We'll eat soon," Paul yawned. The three of them fell asleep again and when Jane walked in, she couldn't believe that they could still be tired. She shook Paul's shoulder to wake him up. She couldn't help but be slightly perturbed.

"Why would you put them to sleep right as I make dinner?" she demanded. He rubbed his face and sighed.

"God forbid you relax while we're on holiday."

"Well, if you'd stop doing careless stuff like this, we wouldn't have a problem," she reasoned angrily. Paul carefully got off the bed and led Jane outside, slamming the door behind them.

"There's always something, isn't there?" he yelled. "If it's not one thing, it's the other! Maybe I made a big mistake by staying with you. Do you think so?"

"Why would you say that?" she asked incredulously. "I try so hard. For your sake."

"Oh, for my sake? So it's all my fault?"

"No, that's not what I said!" she argued tearfully. "Won't you let me talk?"

"No, I won't. Because every time I let you talk, I'm blamed for everything that's gone wrong in our marriage. You always fight me about everything and I'm sick of it!" he shouted.

"No one is fighting with you about anything!" she screamed. "You're trying to start an argument! I say one thing and you'd think I insulted you for hours, the way you react! I don't understand why you get so…sensitive and I'm tired of having to deal with three kids instead of two."

"Then maybe you should go. That way, you don't have to deal with any kids and you can go back to your acting," he said casually. "That's all you wanted, right? To be free of this commitment so you can go back to your job? No kids, no problem?"

She tried to respond but she couldn't, instead shaking her head. She looked so disappointed She went back inside and closed the door on him. He angrily banged his fist against the door and walked away from the house. He kicked his sandals off and walked to the beach to calm down. Sticking his feet into the warm sand, he listened to the water crash against the shore as the sky got dark.

He tried not to think about the day he had gone through. He almost lost his daughter to the water and had an admittedly pointless fight with his wife. He was still angry (for no particular reason) and hummed a tune to calm himself down. After about an hour of trying to ignore the thoughts running through his head and vaguely picking out notes in the tune he was thinking about, he got up and went back to the house. He felt terrible about yelling at Jane so he wanted to talk to her.

"Jane?" he called. The house was quiet. The kids were in a playpen on the floor, playing calmly. "Jane? Kids, where's Mum?"

"Up," Sam pointed.

"Thanks." He took the stairs two at a time and rushed to their bedroom. He tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. He banged on the door until he heard her sigh and get up. The door flung open and he was suddenly staring into her teary blue eyes. The redness hadn't faded from her eyes either. "Love…"

"I'm…I'm going to go ahead and head home with the kids," she sniffed.

"But why?" he asked, heartbroken.

"I just think that we really rushed into all of this without thinking. You know, just because we had the kids and you wanted to do the right thing. I think maybe I should go and we'll see if we can sort things out later." He looked over her shoulder and saw that a few bags were repacked.

"Jane," he breathed, taking her into his arms. "I need you. I need you so much. I need you to inspire me and to remind me how lucky I am. I need you to talk to and laugh with and I need you to come home to. But most of all I need you to love me like I love you. You know how much I love you, Jane."

"How much?" she asked, smiling slightly. "A lot?"

"A lot," he chuckled. "A whole lot." He kissed her and held her tightly. "I really, really need you and I really hope you understand how much."

"I do," she said quietly. "Of course I do. I'm going to go check on the kids. You should shower." He went to take a shower while Jane went downstairs.

"Mum," Nate grinned. Jane smiled and lifted him high in the air. She set him down and did the same to Sam.

"What beautiful babies," she cooed. "Didn't you two get Daddy's good looks! You all are just marvelous!"

"Mum tired," Sam observed, tracing the bags under Jane's eyes. Jane smiled slightly.

"Yes, loving your father is quite exhausting, dear." Jane gave the kids a snack before she put them to sleep for the third time that day. They had their own room with a window that faced the water so they could hear the waves roar gently. She put Sam down first since she was already drowsy. Then, she rocked Nate happily as he sucked his thumb and leaned his head on her shoulder. She laid him down and brushed his hair lovingly. Even though she missed being young and free, when she looked into her children's eyes, she didn't regret a thing.

Sam started whimpering in her crib and Jane hesitated whether or not to pick her up and comfort her. Her mother said less coddling meant more independence, but Jane didn't want her kids to be independent just yet.

"Oh, just pick her up. You know you want to," Paul said from the doorway, his hair still dripping wet. She smiled and handed Sam to Paul instead.

"You do it—she likes you better."

"That's not true-,"

"Go ahead. She's a daddy's girl and we both know it," she grinned. He smiled slightly and smoothed Sam's long brown hair. "I'm going to bed, love."

"I'll be there in a minute." She kissed his cheek and left. "Samantha, you stop all of these tears, you hear me?"

"Dark," she whined sadly. "Sing? Daddy sing?"

"Of course, sweetheart." He started crooning to her quietly. "_Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes…"_ She didn't fall asleep until he sang the last lines in almost a whisper. "_But you're so precious to me, sweet as can be, baby of mine."_ He set her down gently and made sure that both of them were sleeping soundly before slipping out of the room. He climbed into the bed and hugged Jane close to him.

"I've always loved that song," she said sleepily. _"Rest you head close to my heart, never to part…"_

"_Baby of mine,"_ he sang before kissing her goodnight. "Sorry about everything, love. Really."

"It's alright."

"I love you."

"I love you more, Jane."

* * *

**Hope you liked it! The song Paul was thinking of on the beach was "For No One" and the lullaby at the end was "Baby Mine" from Dumbo if you wanted to look it up. Alright, well, review and let me know what you think! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Yes, yes, let us praise the Lord that I found time in my busy schedule of eating pretzels and watching Netflix to update this story. I'm not sure when I will update again but look forward to seeing my other ones! I hope you enjoy this dramatic chapter and please review!**

**xo**

* * *

They had happened to be in Greece on the hottest night on the year. It was so hot that they slept on top of the sheets and Jane had to sleep in one of Paul's cooler t-shirts. Well, _tried_, to sleep anyway. They tossed and turned, rolling away from each other to lose as much heat as possible. The windows were thrown open and the fan was on its highest setting.

At some point, late, late, late at night, probably just before dawn, the heat broke and it started to cool down. Jane briefly woke up, sighing and realizing that she was almost chilly. In her groggy, half-conscious state, she reached over and pulled herself close to Paul. He pulled the thin sheet over the both of them and just that flimsy sheet made it warm enough and they drifted back off into a deep sleep. Neither of them realized how beautiful that morning together was. It was that reaching, that gesture, that autonomous reflex for Jane to reach for something warm, caused her to roll into Paul's embrace.

That reflex to pull what's warm toward them, the feeling they got when they did that, that feeling of fighting and the awkward making up period to be dissolved by a single touch—that's happiness.

The children had been uncharacteristically fussy and had been crying all night. When Jane came in, they would be content until she had gotten comfortable in bed again, at which point they would begin to scream again. Jane was so tired and frustrated that tears began to run down her cheeks as well. Paul felt so sorry for her because she was trying so hard. It was barely morning and she had gotten virtually no sleep, her hair was messily thrown into a ponytail to keep the hair off of her neck, and sweat was beginning to drip down her face.

"Why don't you get a glass of water, dear?" Paul suggested. "I'll take care of them." She gave him a grateful smile and rushed downstairs. Paul fetched the crying babies from their cribs and laid them in his and Jane's bed which was much cooler. Nate curled up in a ball and went to sleep while Sam sprawled out and tossed and turned for a bit before nodding off. Jane came back up and smiled.

"Finally," she sighed thankfully. She grinned at Sam and pushed her over a bit. "What a brat."

"Isn't she?" Paul chuckled. She got back into bed and the four of them slept for four hours until the sun began to shine warmly on their sticky skin. Sam woke up first and pulled on Jane's hair.

"Mum, food," she whined. Jane carefully removed her hair from the child's eager grip and sleepily rose from bed. Sam hopped down and reached to be picked up.

"Right," Jane yawned. "Let's make some breakfast."

"Then water?"

"No," Jane snapped. "No water, no beach."

"Why?" she cried.

"Because I said so. Now come on." She dragged Sam to the kitchen and let her walk around curiously as she prepared omelette for Paul and herself and cut up fruit and put cereal on plates for the kids. When Paul and Nate woke up, the four of them had breakfast on the porch. After they ate, Paul sat far away from the water with the kids while Jane went to the market.

She found it so exciting to be out alone and feel the bustling atmosphere of the beautiful country. She bought fresh fruit and vegetables and smiled at a few men who looked her way. Her skin had finally begun to tan just a bit and she was beginning to blend into the crowd more. She walked back happily and sat on the warm sand next to her family.

Later that night, Paul and Jane made a small bonfire and sat around it with the kids. Paul played his guitar and they listened to the waves crash on the cool summer night. After they put the kids to bed, Paul pulled Jane onto the porch and put on their favorite record. They danced slowly as Billie Holiday crooned "Good Morning Heartache."

"I love when we have moments like this together," Jane said quietly. "No noise, no fighting. Nothing." He ran his fingers through her soft hair and spun them around slowly.

"Do you miss this? The time before the kids?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Sometimes. We used to be so close." In response, he pulled her closer to his body. "That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant," he smiled. "You mean the harmony we used to have."

"Yes! That's what I want back!" she exclaimed.

"We didn't lose it, Jane," he chuckled. "We have harmony when we're together like this. It's the greatest feeling you could ever get. You know why?"

"No, why?" He kissed her and made her heart flutter wildly.

"Because even in a world where chaos has become such a normality, nothing could ever seem to go wrong as long as I bring you closer to me." She looked into his eyes and her smile was as bright as the stars they danced beneath. She kissed him and lay her head on his shoulder.

"I know we may fight a lot, but no matter what I say, I love you. Always," she said.

"As I love you."

Soon, it was time for the family to return home. Jane and Paul didn't fight for an entire month, but she could feel her husband becoming distant. When they sat together at dinner, he answered her questions with murmured words and small nods. She'd ask about his music and he'd shake his head. He never let her listen to his music anymore. She was so suspicious that she began to snoop around his den. When he was at the studio, she looked in all of his notebooks and finally found what she was looking for. Her breath hitched in her throat as tears rose to her eyes.

_Elizabeth_

_Every time I look at her, I fall in love again and it feels like knives are breaking out of their cocoons and becoming butterflies in the hole she left in my heart. Every time I look at her, I am hypnotized by her smile, captivated by those eyes, and completely lost in the way that she barely thinks about me. Every time I look at her, my breath is kidnapped and my mouth feels swollen with the nervousness that rises like the sun. Every time I look at her, she begins to look more like Jane. Every time I look at her, I know I'm about to break my promise._

Her hands shook angrily as she hurled the journal at the wall. She pushed everything off of his desk and knocked over a cup to find the boldest, darkest marker she could. She retrieved the book and flipped to the page she had just read. In her rage she scrawled angrily: _**Then stop looking at her.**_

She slammed the cover closed and threw it to the ground. His office was in shambles, but she didn't care. She tore through all of his things until he found evidence of this Elizabeth. Her address and her telephone number were written on the back of an envelope hidden in a locked drawer in his desk. Along with it were photos of the two of them or just of her, dated within six months.

Blind with rage, Jane put the kids into her car and sped to the address she'd found. Clutching each of her children's hands in one of hers, she pressed the button to Elizabeth's apartment.

"Hello?" she answered.

"It's Jane A…_McCartney_," she hissed with emphasis. She heard a click. "Hello? Don't hang up on me! I want to talk to you!" Elizabeth had moved back into a corner as if Jane was in her apartment physically. Jane's voice, however, echoed through the speakers and into her living room.

"Get away," Elizabeth yelled. Jane ignored her and rang her doorbell more.

"You keep away from my husband, you hear me?" Jane yelled. She pressed the button five times as hard as she could. "Open this damn door!" Her kids looked up at her curiously. "Answer me!"

Elizabeth's phone was ringing. She might have picked it up if she wasn't completely paralyzed in fear. This woman who was usually nothing but a faraway threat was now less than a minute's walk from her. Jane furiously ran her hand down the bell board with over twenty-five bells.

"I'll tell everyone who walks in here that in 3B, Anderson, you are nothing but a _whore!_" she threatened loudly. Elizabeth flinched at her sharp words. Jane picked up the phone and waited impatiently. "Hello, is this the superintendent? Well, sir, I want you to know that you have a whore living in B! 3B!"

Elizabeth began to cry in fear and embarrassment. She wished she could call John to stop this woman from verbally attacking her.

"Anderson, Elizabeth Anderson! Do you hear me? He's my husband! Get your own god damn man!" she screamed, slamming the phone against the wall. She put the kids back into car as angry tears ran down her cold cheeks. She drove back home and waited for Paul to return.

Elizabeth phoned Paul in fear. She told him all about the exchange and told him how she had threatened her and humiliated her in front of all of her neighbors. He gruffly said that he would take care of it and drove home quickly. As soon as he walked in the door, Jane threw the notebook with the poem at him, then chucked and handful of photos.

"Do you think I'm a _fucking idiot_?" she screamed immediately. "Do you think I'm that bloody dense?" He picked up the book and tossed it back at her to which she grabbed a flower vase, splashed him with the water, and launched it at his head.

"Don't you start with me, Jane. Don't you start with me," he warned as she began to stalk toward him. He took hold of her arms and pushed her away from him roughly. She shoved him back harder and her yelled at her again: "Don't start!" He turned around, shaking his head, and removed his coat. Her blood boiling with anger, Jane ran right at him and knocked him down. He quickly turned over and pinned her onto the floor.

"Let me go."

"What do you think you're doing?" he shouted. She fought her way out from underneath him and stood up quickly.

"I knew something was going on behind my back! You promised me that you would never do this again!" she accused. He cornered her and looked straight into her eyes.

"I'm a grown man," he said pointedly. "I'll do what I want." He hit the wall right next to her head and she ducked in fear.

"Get out."

"Shut up."

"Get out of my life!"

"You're fucked in the head, you know that?" he yelled. "It's all in your mind! You're a mad bitch—,"

"You lousy cheating bastard!" she shrieked. "Don't ever call me that! This is _your _fault! We made a promise and you broke it! You can't turn the tables and blame me!"

"I am so _sick _of this back and forth arguing! It's like you want to fight with me. I can't handle it anymore. You've got some bloody problems, Jane." He picked his coat back up and grabbed his keys. She followed him to the door.

"Yeah, just go back to your ready-made whore! That's all you're good for!" she hissed with tears in her eyes. He stopped and turned on her.

"If I _ever _hear you've gone near her again," he said slowly. "You're dead. It will be over for you. I'll take the kids, I'll take the house, and I'll leave you. Stay. Away."

"You're defending her right now?" she asked disbelievingly. "I'll do what I want! And you can't take my kids! Just get out of here! Get out of my life! I can't stand you!" With that, he slammed the door and drove as his kids cried in the next room.

Jane sunk to the floor and put her head between her knees and breathed deeply. It was getting bad again. All of the work they had put into making their family better was being destroyed. She felt so alone. She wanted to pack of everything and leave him but she couldn't. She wanted to run after his car and forget everything but she couldn't. She couldn't do anything. That was when she knew everything was falling apart..

When Paul came home, she waited with her wedding ring encased in her clenched fist. They didn't look at each other. Finally, she took a deep breath.

"Just tell me one thing before I do something I regret," she said shakily. It was a question she had worn on her lips for days and she couldn't resist looking into his eyes as she asked him. "Do you even love me anymore?"

In his hesitation, she found her answer.


	10. Chapter 10

**wait but what i'm actually updating like it's only been a week? this is insane but i've been a writing machine lately! this chapter is _the _best drama so far and I hope you like it bc it took a lot out of me. what should happen? also let me know if you think Paul and Jane should stay together or not! i love you guys thanks for all of you reviews and keep reviewing! enjoy and also i'll update my other stories during this week!**

* * *

"I love her," he admitted. "I love her and that's the beginning and the end of everything."

"I hate you," she said. "But you must know that. I hate her the most." He stepped toward her menacingly and she knew that he was about to call her something that he would regret. She held her hand up, but when he saw the ring gone from her finger, he got angrier than ever.

"You have no right! She should hate you!"

"Piss off."

"You weren't perfect, but you used to make life worth it. Maybe if you tried to work us out, some real feelings might've surfaced," he spat. She flinched. "What the hell was I supposed to do? I've got to hear it from some bloke that you were sleeping with him? You couldn't tell me?"

"Paul-,"

"You're not about to see me get emotional, Jane," he said, breathing heavily. "I bet you're ready to just run back into his arms after this. You blame me for wanting someone else, yet you always had one foot out of the door!" He grabbed her shoulders and slammed her against the wall.

"Stop!" she pleaded. "Paul, please stop!"

"You should be grateful someone like me ever noticed you! But now it's like no one can keep control of you! What was I supposed to do?" he shouted. "What was I supposed to do?" He hit her against the wall with every word even as she cried for him to stop.

"Let me go!" He finally threw her down and she immediately scrambled to her feet, picked up the kids, and ran to her car. Paul chased after her until the car tore out of the driveway. Her heart was beating fast as she drove to her parents' house. Peter was there to calm her down. She told him that Paul had hurt her and he comforted her. Paul phoned their home and Peter lied, saying that Jane had just passed through and had no intention of staying in London. Paul didn't believe him. He took a cab over to the Asher residence in the middle of a thunderstorm and burst in the back door.

"Get up!" he roared as thunder crashed. He grabbed her arm, but Peter put his hand on Paul's.

"Don't touch my baby sister, mate," he warned. Paul shot him a strange look.

"Get in the car," he growled. She shook with sobs but obeyed nonetheless. Hugging the kids to her, and shakily walked to the car. Paul and Peter were in a staring match as Jane walked out of the house.

"If she comes over here like that again, we'll have a problem," Peter said lowly. "Regardless of if she wants to leave or not, she won't. Do you understand?" Paul didn't say a word. Silently, he drove recklessly back home. His children were crying as they put them into the playpen. Jane cowered in the corner as he stalked over to her.

"You think you can just leave with them?" he seethed. "You think you can just take them away?"

"Paul, I-,"

"Don't! Don't you even try to interrupt me! Those aren't your kids. You didn't want them. They're mine."

"You barely know them! You don't know anything about them!" she finally said. "The last time you saw them for a full day was in Greece. They are my children. Have one with your _whore!_" He suddenly slapped her and began to choke her.

"Are you bloody crazy, Jane? Are you crazy?" he screamed. "You want to fight with me even more?"

"Paul, I can't breathe," she gasped, clawing at his hands. He ignored her.

"I've got enough to fight about with the guys at the studio and I gotta come home? I gotta fucking come home?_ For this?! _I should fucking kill you!" He squeezed her throat more. "How does it feel, Jane? How does it fucking feel?"

"Paul, stop!" she begged as she began to squirm. Without thinking, he hit her in the stomach and knocked the wind out of her. He pushed her to the ground as hard as he could and she screamed in anguish. "Paul, no!"

"What!" he barked. Her hair covered her faced as her shoulders shook. "Answer me!" She lifted her head up slowly and met his eyes with her wide, frightened ones.

"Paul, I'm pregnant," she said as she broke down. She clutched her stomach protectively as Paul's eyes widened. She ran to the bathroom as her stomach and back began to cramp. She fell on the floor and sobbed as Paul banged on the door.

"Jane, what's happening?" he asked. Blood began to run down her legs and pool onto the floor. She shook her head and shrieked in panic. "Jane!"

"Ring an ambulance," she wept. "Please hurry!" But she knew that it was too late. At the hospital, the doctors told her that the baby was gone before the ambulance had even gotten there. Paul came in immediately but she threw everything she could get her hands on.

"Stop!" he commanded.

"Get the hell out!" she screamed. "What could you possibly have to say for yourself? This is _your _fault! It's all you fault! Everything! I can't do this! I can't handle it anymore. I can't-," He grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her face.

"I know," he said. "I don't know who I am anymore. Something's wrong, Jane. I never wanted to hurt you like this. Nothing made that acceptable. And now…now we've lost the baby. I didn't know, love. But it doesn't matter. I don't know where my mind is anymore. Maybe I just need to get away. Everything is over between Elizabeth and me. You are the only woman I could ever want or need."

"You just have to say that," she snapped. "Because you killed my baby and now you're trying to make yourself feel less guilty. Too bad, Paul. This is the last straw!"

"Jane, please. I love you more than all the stars and I'm crying because I miss us."

"You don't need me."

"I never said I didn't need you!" he denied loudly. She put her head in her hands and tried to stop shaking. She flinched as he placed his hand on her back. "Look, I know I only have myself to blame. But can we try to start again? Because I can't live without you."

"I'm just so tired, Paul," she said quietly. "I can't look at you and feel like I love you anymore. I'm so, so tired."

"I'll do anything, love," he whimpered. She shook her head and sighed.

"Where are the kids?"

"Outside."

"Bring them in." He asked the nurse to bring the sleeping children into the room and Samantha started to whimper as she began to wake. The nurse place her in Jane's lap. Jane hugged her daughter tightly and kissed her soft, light brown hair. "I'm just so tired."

Jane was released and for the next few months, they were the picture perfect family. Paul did everything in his power to make their relationship better. He spent every waking moment when he wasn't working with his kids and took Jane out at least once a week. She even found out that she was pregnant again, about two months along. Everything was wonderful, but Jane knew something terrible was brewing.

Lo and behold, the moment she began to talk about the kids' third birthday and hint at going back to work, Paul snapped.

"Can't you just be happy with what you have? For once in your life can you be satisfied?" he asked. "It's not my fault your acting didn't work out, so the sooner you get over that little melodrama, the better."

"But it is your fault! You think I _stopped _acting? You think I _quit _acting? No! You made me stop! So it is your fault. Just as everything usually is." She began to storm away and he followed her outside.

"No, Jane!" he said sharply, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him. "This is one time when you're not going to twist everything I say. This is the one instance where I know I'm not in the wrong here!"

"Christ, I wish I'd never gone to that concert those years ago," she regretted miserably. "How much better would it have been?" He looked at her disbelievingly.

"You know what you are when you're like this? You're sick. I mean that. You're sick!"

"And do you know what you are?" she screamed. "You're disgusting! You don't fool me, Paul. Just because you've got me safely in this trap, you think you can manipulate me into feeling whatever you want me to feel!"

"You? In a trap?" he cackled.

"Yes, yes! Me, Paul!"

"Jesus Christ, don't make me laugh!"

"I'm sorry I don't fit into the role of obedient, dumb housewife who always does what her husband says. I'm my own person! You pathetic, self-deluded…little boy!" she hissed. He looked taken aback and she felt gleeful at her new found insult. "Look at you! Look at you and tell me how, by any stretch of the imagination, you could call yourself a man!" His arm flew up with his fist balled and she shrieked, turning away and guarding her face. He turned and hit the brick wall instead of his wife and began spitting out curse words.

"Goddammit, I'm frustrated! It's been so long, I just want to know why…" he trailed off angrily. "I want to know why you're not…why _we're _not…I mean I know you're still upset but…" Her eyebrows raised knowingly.

"You know I'm not sleeping with you and you want to know why," she stated. He looked down slightly. "Well, I'm sorry, Paul, but frankly, I don't feel like talking about it." She left him standing outside and went back into the house to do the washing up.

"Alright then," he said as they calmed down and caught their breath. "Then what should we talk about?" She threw the dishtowel into the water harshly and leaned on the sink.

"Would it be that terrible if we didn't talk about anything at all?" she asked.

"Well, I need to talk," he said as he followed her to the dining room. He stared at her as she set the table. "I've been seeing a girl a few times a week while I'm in the studio." Her movements paused for a moment, but she went back almost instantly. "It meant nothing otherwise I wouldn't be telling you this."

"Then why did you?"

"We hadn't been together in so long and I wasn't feeling-,"

"No, not why did you have the girl. Why did you tell me?" she asked calmly.

"Wh-what?"

"It's rather pointless, no?" she clipped. "Is it supposed to make me jealous or something? Is it supposed to make me love you or come back to bed with you? I mean, what would you like me to say to that, Paul?"

"Well, why don't you say what you feel?" he said.

"I don't feel anything," she realized. His face twisted up angrily.

"So really, you don't care what I do or who I fuck or anything, hm?" he growled. She put down the two remaining plates and stared at him emotionlessly.

"No, I suppose that's right. I don't," she said softly. "Fuck who you like." She began to put down the napkins steadily.

"Jane, don't you understand that I want you to care?"

"I do," she said offhandedly. "And I suppose I would if I loved you. And I don't think I do anymore." That shook him right down to his core. "I'm only just know realizing that."

"Oh, really," he said, his voice mockingly pleasant.

"And that's the reason why I would really appreciate not doing any talking right now." She walked out swiftly and he followed her.

"Don't give me that bullshit, Jane!" he yelled. "You know goddamn well you love me!"

"Is that so?" she shouted.

"You know goddamn well!"

"Mummy, Daddy," Sam said from the corner of the room. They both looked over at her and felt ashamed. "Can you stop fighting 'cause I can't fall to sleep." Paul rushed over and picked her up and Jane lit a cigarette.

"Let me tuck you in, love," he murmured. He rubbed her back until she fell back asleep and went back downstairs to Jane. "Let me guess. I made a humiliating spectacle of myself in front of our child, right?"

"Right," she nodded.

"And I'm completely unfit to be a father and husband. Is that what you're going to say?" he asked. She stubbed out her cigarette and smiled ruefully.

"Looks like I won't have to! You're saying it all for me!"

"Well, you're wrong. Do you know why? Because you're insane. Do you know what insane means?"

"No, but I'm sure you do."

"It is the inability to relate to another human being. It is the inability to love, Jane," he stressed. She turned to him and burst into hysterical laughter. "Jane. Jane." She kept giggling. "_Jane!"_

"The inability," she snorted. "The inability to love. Oh, Paul, you're a great talker." She continued to laugh. "If black could be made into white by talking, they'd do well to ask you to do it! So now I'm crazy because I don't ove you? Is that the point?" she asked.

"No! Wrong! You're not crazy and you do love me. That's my point!" She looked him straight in the eyes.

"But I don't love you!" she laughed. "I _hate_ you! In fact, if you even come closer to me, I think I'll scream." To challenge her, he took a step forward, but she shrieked at the top of her lungs. She felt so free and relieved. As she ran away, Paul became angrier than he had ever been in his entire life. He was seeing red as fury spilled from his lungs.

"_Fuck you, Jane!"_ he screamed. Jane ran faster because she had never heard him shout that loud or sound that violent in all the years she had known him. He chased her and she threw a chair down to make him stumble, but he picked it up and slammed it against the wall. "Fuck you and your hateful, snotty, goddamn fucking soul!"

"What are you going to do now?" she challenged as she was backed against the wall. "Hit me? To show me how you love me? To show me how _sane _you are?"

"Don't worry, I can't be bothered!" he yelled. "You aren't worth the trouble it would take to hit you. You aren't worth the gas it would take to blow you up. You heartless, cold-hearted shell of a woman! What are you doing in my house if you hate me so much? Why are you married to me? Why are you carrying my child?" She tried to back further away from him without showing fear, but she had nowhere to go.

"I didn't want it," she said softly. "You did."

"Then why didn't you just get rid of it when you had the chance?" he screamed. His voice turned low and menacing. "Because I'll tell you. I wish to _God_ that you had." He took his jacket and drove off into the sunset.

When he left that time, it was the last time she would see him for a very long time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Surprise! Hey guys I have a bunch of chapters written and ready to go so the more reviews, the quicker the update! I hope you like this chapter ily guys so much enjoyyyy**

* * *

When Paul left and didn't come back, Jane had to do what any mother would. She put off any idea of going back to work until her children were at least in school. As time went on, she became depressed. She'd heard from Cynthia who'd heard from John that Paul didn't want to be in the band anymore and that he was at the home they'd purchased in Scotland. He sent her no correspondence, however she was financially secure by means of their bank account.

The twins were three and a half years old and Jane was eight months pregnant. She couldn't believe that a fight between the two of them would make Paul miss his family growing up. She'd gone through her pregnancy with the help of her family and friends, but she wanted no one else but Paul.

As her kids played in the snow with Martha, she let a few tears fall from her eyes. They missed their father—Nate especially. He'd have nightmares that he said only Paul could make better. He said that Jane didn't check thoroughly enough for the monster under his bed so he insisted on sleeping with her. Sam, not one to be left out, often climbed in next to her mother in the middle of the night.

She called the kids inside where her mother was packing an overnight bag for them. The doctors said that she would be going into labor any day now, so the kids would stay with their grandparents when the new baby came.

"Darling, I just can't believe Paul won't be here for the birth," Margaret sighed. "It just doesn't seem…decent of him, you know." Jane rolled her eyes as she set a sandwich in front of each of the children. Her mother liked to make subtle jabs at Paul ever since he left.

"We both needed time to think, Mum," she said calmly.

"But six months with no letters or anything? Don't you think that's just a touch out of line?"

"Enough," Jane snapped. She put her hand on her aching back. "God, I just want this thing out."

"Jane, please! Have patience and you'll be blessed with a beautiful child," she scolded.

"I wasn't patient before and look at those two!" she said, gesturing at her angelic children.

"Then you'll get another," Margaret countered. Jane rolled her eyes again and the two of them sat down to eat.

A few hours later, Jane went into labor. Clare babysat and her parents took Jane to the hospital. She wasn't in pain at all this time. She sat and read a book until the doctors were ready to take her in. The birth only took about an hour and soon Jane was holding a new baby girl. Since Paul wasn't there, she decided on the name herself. Soon, the grandparents were allowed to see Sophia Margaret McCartney.

When they were left alone, Jane gazed at the baby sadly because she knew that terrible memories would be associated with her. Ones like how her father wished for her death and how he abandoned the family before she was born. Even how Jane (guiltily) thought about how another child would ruin her career forever.

However, Jane loved the baby unconditionally. She was the spitting image of Paul with her big eyes and her shock of dark hair. While the twins' hair had a reddish tint to it, Sophia's was as dark as Paul's with no hint of auburn. Jane felt a powerful sadness at the fact that Paul wasn't the first one to see her when she was born. To her, that was unforgivable. The next day, Sam and Nate met their new sister.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"That your baby sister, there," Jane smiled.

They touched her soft hair and marveled at her tiny fingers and toes. She was immediately dubbed "Sophie" by her older siblings.

"Mummy, is Daddy gonna see the baby too?" Nate asked hopefully.

"I don't know, love." Sam reached up and hugged Jane tightly.

"I don't think Daddy should come back," she whispered. "I love you most, Mummy."

"Don't say that, Samantha," Jane scolded lightly. She felt a little smug. "You shouldn't have favorites—it's not nice."

"Well, if it were nice, I'd like you more," she grinned. Jane kissed each of them multiple times before it was time for them to leave. Jane rocked her baby to sleep and when the nurse took the baby, Jane fell right asleep as well.

Life began to get better before it immediately became worse. The twins were about to turn four (to Jane's astonishment), and Sophie was nearly four months old. The following year, the exact day that marked Paul's departure was met with traumatizing news.

It was about two weeks after her twenty-third birthday and Jane looked through the mail as she bounced Sophie on her hip. Sam ran away screaming as her brother chased her with a frog he'd found in the yard. "Nathaniel, you put that thing outside right now!" she yelled.

She glanced at the coffee table that had several unanswered letters from her sister. Jane hadn't visited her family since Sophie was born and Clare was none too pleased. There was a letter every week that begged her to at least give them a call. She sighed as the doorbell rang twice. Sam ran to get it.

"Mummy, telegram!" she shouted.

"Keep your voice down," Jane reprimanded. She took the paper and gave the delivery man three pounds. She figured if someone had bothered to send a message by telegram. She opened it and gasped in horror.

_DATE: 25 APRIL 1969_

_RECIPIENT: JANE ASHER_

_C/O MISTER PAUL MCCARTNEY_

_SENDER: CLARE ASHER_

_DADDY DIED. COME HOME._

"Oh my God," she groaned in pain. "My dad! My dad!" She put the kids in the car and cried as she drove over to her family's house.

"Mum, what's wrong?" Nate asked.

"Granddad's dead," she said coldly. She tried to ignore the sound of the twins' wailing as she drove.

In Ireland, Paul was doing his best to convince himself to go back to his family. He had been secretly flying back and forth to finish up the band's album but he couldn't bring himself to go and see Jane and the kids. John kept him updated on all of the news that Cynthia told him about Jane but it wasn't the same. He already knew that nothing would ever be the same.

When Jane arrived at the house, Clare ran into her arms sobbing while Peter was busy trying to wake their mother up.

"He did it to himself!" Clare wept. As it turned out, he was killed by a combination of alcohol and barbiturates. Jane and Peter had to plan the funeral because their mother and sister were too hysterical. The services took place a week later. Jane's children cried beside her as they saw their grandfather being lowered into the grave.

Though Jane was devastated, she was angrier than she had ever been. In this time of tragedy, Paul hadn't even bothered to be by her side. She had to console her kids while she felt like a child herself.

Samantha wondered why her mother wasn't paying attention to any of her or her siblings. She wanted to tell her mother how much she missed her Granddad and how sad Nate was but she wouldn't listen.

"Mum is so busy talking with Uncle Peter that she doesn't even notice us anymore," Nate whispered to her one night. "I bet in a little while, she'll talk to us again." Her older brother was right as usual and a week after her granddad died, Jane dressed the three kids in black and hugged them tightly. Then, they were shuttled to a graveyard and had to stand silently as a priest sprinkled holy water on all four corners of Richard's casket. Sam felt sick and grew distracted by her sobbing grandmother. Suddenly, she felt someone pressing a lump of damp, cold earth into her hand.

She looked up and saw Jane crying as she and Nate stood at the edge of the grave ready to drop the dirt into the grave. Jane glanced at her and jerked her head toward the grave tearfully. Sam slowly ambled to the grave, closed her eyes, and opened her hand. When she heard a soft thud hit the casket, she felt that sick feeling again. She rushed over to Jane and held her mother's soft hand tightly as they walked back to the car that would take them to the church.

They stayed until the very last guest had expressed their condolences. Jane felt terribly insensitive, but if the thirty-one people she had never met before show her love and sympathy, she thought at least her husband could too.

Jane bathed her tired children and put them to sleep early. She rocked the baby and cried softly when she thought about her father. Then, she began to wonder if Paul would ever come home and if she even wanted him to.

It took Paul about eight more months to finally make his way home. The twins were four years old. Sophie was one and she had yet to meet her father in her short life.

It was the first of December, Christmas time, and they had all just finished the day long challenge of decorating the house and the tree and hanging the stockings. Jane made everyone hot chocolate and put chocolate milk in Sophie's bottle. She sat on the couch with the girls' heads on her lap and Nate sitting on the floor, leaning back against her legs. The kids were falling asleep as they watched their favorite Christmas film for the third time that week.

Luckily, the kids were in their pajamas and she hadn't bothered to change out of hers. They were from her father. They were a bit long in the leg but it didn't matter—she felt closer to him just by wearing them. As the movie reached its half hour mark, Jane's eyes began to droop. She ran her hand through Sophie's thick brown hair as she rested her cheek in her hand and fell asleep.

Nate woke her up because he heard footsteps. He said the doorknob was rattling before he heard someone enter. Jane quickly hustled the kids into the kitchen and shut the door. She armed herself with a fireplace poker and slowly stalked to the hallway. A tall figure stepped out of the shadows and she screamed, brandishing the stick around. A strong hand caught it and yanked it out of her hand.

"Jane, you'll take a bloody eye out," Paul whispered. Jane stumbled backwards until she hit the closed door. Her heart beat so hard she could hear it and she felt dizzy with anger. She snatched the stick back.

"You goddamn, lousy, no good, son-of-a-_bitch_!" she hissed. She swung the poker at his shins as hard as she could and he immediately collapsed and moaned in pain. She kept hitting him with it and he barely fought back because he knew that he deserved it. She cried so hard she couldn't breathe. "Do you know what you did? Do you know how hard it's been? I should kill you! You don't deserve to step foot in this house again!"

"I know-,"

"You haven't even met your baby! She's a year old, Paul! She hasn't ever met her father!" she screamed. "And I don't want her to! Because he's a filthy fucking bastard!" She threw the stick on the ground and hit him as hard as she could.

"Jane, darling, I just came to say I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You don't have to forgive me. I just need you to know that I love you. And…I just want to see her. Please."

"I won't forgive you," she hissed. "And you can't meet her. _Ever!_ She's perfect, Paul, and she deserves a better father than you. You are not worthy of her."

"Jane, please, I'm begging you." He gazed up at her and even though she was furious, he thought she looked gorgeous. Her hair was longer than she normally kept it and it framed her pale face. Her bright blue eyes were crazed as he attempted to restrain her from hitting her long enough to talk. "Stop."

"_No!" _she shouted. "You've been gone for a year and a half. No letters, no calls, nothing! I've raised your children alone! You haven't been here for me! My dad is _dead _and you weren't there for me! So, _fuck you_, Paul! You don't get to tell me what to do anymore! Get out of my house."

"It's my house, Jane."

"Shut your bloody mouth! Get out of _my _house." She pushed him out of the door, slammed it, and locked the deadbolt. Nate came running out as she walked away.

"Was that Daddy?" he asked. She nodded miserably and he pushed past her and ran to the door. He banged his fists on it and cried.

"Dad! Dad!" he yelled. Paul wanted more than anything to break the door down and hold his son, but Jane picked him up and put him into bed. She retrieved her daughters and carried them up to bed carefully. Sam was snoring before her head hit the pillow, but Sophie clung to her mother. She had inherited Jane's blue eyes that were clearer than a summer day. As she stared at her sleeping baby's peaceful face, she vowed to never let Paul hurt Sophie as he had hurt her and their twins. Even if that meant keeping the baby away from him.


End file.
